


Talisman

by HeartEyes4Mariska



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Drama, Endgame, F/M, Gun Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Hospitalization, OTP Feels, Reunions, Romance, Shooting, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:29:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28634034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartEyes4Mariska/pseuds/HeartEyes4Mariska
Summary: Plenty of things change. Some things don't. Elliot is haunted by her name. Set in season 18, after Conversion and before American Dream.
Relationships: Olivia Benson/Elliot Stabler
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Spoilers: Smoked, Scorched Earth, Her Negotiation, Surrender Benson, Girls Disappeared, Next Chapter, Chasing Theo**

**Rating: T, this chapter**

**Talisman: I**

A lot of things could change in six years. But then again, a lot of things could also stay the same.

Like the nightmares. He still had them. They would visit every now and then with the familiarity of an unwelcome relative. It had been three years before he had mastered how to swallow the sob that the nightmare always ended on. It kept him from waking Kathy, which was a relief, as those six years had failed to finally teach him how to talk to her about those things.

The landscape had changed. He and Kathy had sold the house and gotten something smaller after Dickie left home. All his children, save for Eli, were finding their way in life. The irony was, Elliot had thought he would be doing the same by now.

Instead, he found himself leaning over the upstairs balcony, gazing into the warm Summer darkness and wondering how many years he would have to be away from SVU before he would start sleeping a solid eight hours at night. Too many years snatching cat naps in the crib of the one-six, and working thirty, forty hours straight, had left him in a permanent state of rolling insomnia.

Nobody from his old unit could have ever guessed the things he would long for, on these nights so many years later. Not even he could have known that he would yearn for the most ridiculous things – awful squad coffee, the long, quiet stretches on overnight stakeouts. Sometimes even Munch's conspiracy theories.

Elliot shifted his weight from foot to foot, moving his arms that were imprinted with the balcony railing, and tipped his face to the half-moon's light. The Summer breeze caressed the hair on his forearms, raising goosebumps of pleasure. He took a deep breath, and on the exhale, came her name:

"Liv."

His talisman.

Six years. Changing, but not changing. At first, her number appearing on his cell, her voicemails were like fire. His throat and fingertips were scorched with betrayal. Mornings were filled with over-long showers – his fingertips raking the tile as he swallowed his grief. And when her calls stopped coming, he accepted it as punishment. He deserved to be given up on, he decided, he'd fucked up a couple dozen times too many. Elliot swore he would teach himself to forget.

He learned never to lie to the universe, as it will delight in mocking you. It seemed he could do everything but forget. When he did sleep, Olivia lurked in his dreams. She came with him when they had moved, and materialized when his mind was the farthest from his former life. She was the smell of the flowers when he mowed the lawn, reminding him of 12 years of perfumes he could never altogether name. Olivia was his first thought whenever Kathy failed to laugh at jokes that smacked of his years in SVU, and she was the ghost that raised hairs on his arm when he could barely keep his temper in check.

 _"El,"_ her calm ghost-voice would come softly. Nobody called him that anymore.

ii.

Elliot finally had to concede that he had failed at the commonly understood meaning of retirement. He did what a lot of retired cops did, and got a P. I. license. He found it darkly amusing, to find himself working alone after years of One-PP warning Cragen it was the only way he should be allowed to work – if at all.

But the hours seemed so much longer, alone. The work had no real victims to save, just dishonest husbands, wives, employees and greedy employers to mollify, meaning that Elliot had to leave his Hero complex packed away with his life from before. When the middle of the night slowed to a crawl, and he dozed with his eyes open, he often lost track of where – and when - he was. He'd find himself turning his head to an Olivia that wasn't in the passenger seat, ready to crack a joke that died on his lips. The sun on his face illuminated memories of her, bending down to the open window with a tray of coffee.

_"Morning, Sunshine."_

It was how he knew he would never forget.

His marriage to Kathy remained unchanged: it was predictable, convenient, familiar. They slept beside each other as they had for decades, they lived among each other, sharing space and parenting Eli like they had his brother and three sisters before him. Elliot was a Catholic man mired in the most Catholic of all midlife crises. More and more often, he found himself in the Sunday confessional confessing every and all sin, save for the one that plagued him most.

He and Kathy still had sex, but their reaching for each other was driven by expectation, or the sheer need to be reminded of touch. It was mechanical, an orchestration of muscle-memory. He would have been hard-pressed, if forced, to truthfully swear he was sure Kathy's mind wasn't on someone else when they fucked. In that, they were uniformly guilty, as Elliot's long nights spent on the upstairs balcony often resulted in memories that stirred more than his heart.

Her smile always came to him first. Everyone who worked amidst society's darkest evils should have been so lucky to have a partner with a smile like Liv's. Her voice, her eyes, each dark and warm if she was concerned for you, or equally as sharp and dangerous if you pissed her off. The thought of her body shaking with rage compelled his chest entirely into stars and pinwheels.

Because of her, he missed the job.

iii.

Being a P. I. allowed Elliot access to an underbelly of a world of information that he wouldn't have had access to otherwise.

William Lewis?

Yeah. He knew. After the fact, of course. He had spent another quiet night on the balcony, and hadn't realized he was weeping until his palms had begun to burn. His fingernails had drawn blood.

"I was in love with her," he had whispered, to only himself and the starlight. And then, after a hollow laugh, "I still am."

Elliot had waited for the Heavens to yawn open and for a host of Catholic saints to come and curse him over this new-old failure. When he was sure none were arriving, he spent the rest of the early morning hours in the gym room in the house's basement, punishing himself. But it hadn't worked, entirely, and while on assignment later that same day, his fist punished a concrete wall. It was a poor stand-in for William Lewis' face, resulting in three stitches. He lied to Kathy, and on the very next Sunday, he finally managed to utter _Impure thoughts_ to his priest.

Not that it made any difference. After Lewis, he thought constantly about Liv. He would catch himself dialing her cell number, unable to remember if he made the conscious decision to do so. His dreams and reminiscences were filled with images of Olivia, standing next to his hospital bed whenever he had been hurt on the job, tormenting him and his shame for not being there for her in return.

Despite having been partners for more than a decade, there are disloyalties and passages of time that make going back too hard. How could he ever defend more than two years of being absent? Or apologize tactfully enough for not answering her calls, her texts for the first of those years?

He couldn't.

So, time trooped on. And William Lewis eventually became just another demon in a long list of the same that plagued Elliot's nightmares from time to time.

iv.

Elliot was on assignment one warm Saturday the first time he saw Olivia with her child. He'd been in traffic, waiting for a light to change, all his windows down because of the weather. Daydreaming, eyes unfocused, Liv's voice had come wafting in on the warm breeze.

He had turned his head only to prove to himself it was just another fantasy, like the others that were becoming a daily fixture for him. Seeing her, obviously in her civvies, and with a baby, had almost resulted in him driving his car right up onto the busy sidewalk.

El had circled the block to slow down and look again. He relied on his detective's gaze, quickly filing away as much as he could: she looked healthy, but tired. The baby looked like her – dark hair and eyes, a sweet smile. Something in his chest lurched, making him unsure if he needed to laugh or lose his meager breakfast. It was a feeling that encompassed every light, joyful thing at once; it was sunlight and his children being born, it was his favorite food, it was making love.

He had made a concerted effort as time went on, to stay soberly and strictly on the line between maintaining his sanity and stalking. There was a rule he had never broken, that he followed her professional life but never her personal. He looked in on her cases every now and then. He knew she moved after William Lewis but didn't know to where, or with whom.

When he found out she was a Lieutenant, he had attended the ceremony from a safe distance, dressed simply in jeans, t shirt and, and the grey hoodie they had once shared. Afterward, he'd sent her a single red rose with a one-word card – _Congratulations_. But he purposely never, ever dug into her personal life – both out of respect, and the want to avoid compounding his own pain. Now he was compelled to wonder – had she gotten married? He hadn't thought to look for a ring on his loop around the block, being too focused on the baby. Had she finally been approved to adopt? Elliot's heart pounded with the force of so many unanswerable questions.

After a string of restless nights, in which his thoughts ran wild and tortured him with visions of husbands, he managed to keep his singular rule unbroken. That May, he had sent a bouquet of enormous sunflowers to SVU that said, simply, _Happy Mother's Day_.

If Olivia had known it was him, she never let on.

v.

Established marital routines, and the fact that Elliot Stabler rarely slept through a full night in an actual bed, were the only things keeping he and Kathy from sleeping in separate bedrooms by 2017. Eli was a bright, curly-headed and unpredictable blonde, due to turn 10 years old. While they put on a very believable show for their youngest child, it was obvious to anyone else that he and Kathy were now just two roommates who sometimes shared a bed. Without saying it aloud, it seemed they had come to the shared conclusion that once Eli was old enough to sense their discord as well, their marriage would finally be put to rest.

In the meantime, they plodded along as kindly as they could. They were both long past the point of taking any pleasure in making it difficult for the other, and their sex life had ended years ago. Whatever time Elliot didn't spend on assignments for his P. I. work was spent in the basement or on the balcony of the house, thinking of Olivia. Sometimes outright fantasizing.

Each year, he sent a bouquet of those same sunflowers to her office, and the same simple card. He imagined her married, happy, and with more children. He imagined, and wished her, the life he wished he was living – or would be living, if he had never walked away.

Six years had somehow come and gone. Over half a decade.

Elliot was starting to feel his frustration at having nothing to really show for it. He hadn't saved his marriage. He hadn't gone to therapy – not for his anger issues, not for his marriage, or for what had caused him to retire. He had five kids that he was infinitely proud of, he had a pension and his P. I. work. But he wasn't happy. Jenna Fox was still dead. And Olivia was still gone from his life.

Something had changed, after all, it seemed: his acceptance of so many unchanged things. Blissful ignorance had run its course, and he could feel something stirring in him that wouldn't be sated by dawns spent on the balcony.

There was a place he'd found, to go when he needed coffee that reminded him of what they used to drink in the squad room. It was in Manhattan, but tucked away, and it wasn't a cop bar – which made it even more appealing. Not having to listen to any 'good ole boys' reminisce about their glory days meant that Elliot could drink his shitty coffee and ruminate on his memories of Liv in peace.

Even the way the sunlight slanted through the windows there was calming for him. He could almost imagine he was back at his desk in the 1-6, the room full of warm chatter, except there were no ringing phones, no constant clacking of keystrokes. Still, it was as close to happy as he got those days, so he made it work.

Drinking shitty coffee in that out-of-the-way café was where he found himself on a warm June day. He was about to find the bottom on his second cup, having been there for more than 90 minutes. His mind was typically too busy to take note of the other people in the café – which is probably why it took a collision around mid-thigh to make him aware of his surroundings.

It was Liv's child. A boy.

He knew it, even though he hadn't seen him since he was a baby. He knew it in his bones, the way you know it's raining without having to look out the window, just by the sound passing cars make on the wet asphalt. The boy had been dashing from the garbage can near the order counter, excited he'd put his own trash in by himself – making the collision really Elliot's fault. They were both frozen, as though bumping each other had somehow stopped time altogether. The little boy, with dark eyes so very like his mother's, gazed up at Elliot's face, curious maybe, if he was about to be in trouble.

But Elliot knew that he was the one who was in trouble. He was facing the counter, meaning Olivia was behind him, and had not seen that it was him. Yet.

"Noah," her voice came from over Elliot's shoulder, and finally hearing the boy's name raised goosebumps. "What do you say when you run into someone?"

"S'cuse me," Noah said sheepishly, his finger worrying his lip as if trying to decide if he wanted to chew on the tip.

"That's - " El cleared his throat, annoyed that it had come out croaking, "that's okay. It was my fault."

Noah leaned until he could see his mother behind the tall man's legs, then grinned and hurried back to her.

"Elliot?"

vi.

It seemed an eternity before he could bring himself to turn around. Had he ever been this nervous? he wondered. His palms were sweating, his heartbeat painful. Finally, he met her eyes.

Christ. Six years had warmed her as fine wine. She had sharpened around the edges, but the shine in her eyes was the same as he remembered. It was warm, gorgeous. It rocked him.

She had picked Noah up and was holding him, now, on her hip. Her gaze never left Elliot's, anticipating a response. At last, he got his tongue working again. "Hello, Liv." He prayed his tone was soft enough.

He wasn't sure how, but a smile pricked the corners of her eyes. "This is Noah," she told him proudly. "Noah, can you say hello? This is Elliot."

"Hi, El," the boy said, and an aftershock he couldn't feel moved through both adults.

"Nice to meet you, Noah," Elliot replied with honest amazement. He looked at Olivia again. "He looks like you." She blushed and a heat Elliot recognized all too well bloomed in his belly and groin. He waited for her to brush it off - or say how the child really looked like his father, but nothing came. Clearing his throat again, he told her, "I was about to get another cup of coffee . . . if you have a few more minutes to sit?"

"Yeah. That – " He watched her take a deep breath, weighing the moment - maybe against memories. She nodded, letting Noah slide down her leg to the floor again. "I would like that."

He returned to her table with his coffee, and a cookie for Noah, who beamed and went back to scribbling on the paper his mother had given him to keep him occupied. They sipped their coffee and took turns sneaking glances at Noah, each for their own reasons. Truthfully, Elliot was curious as to why Liv hadn't been more hesitant, more uncooperative, given the multitude of reasons she had to be incensed.

She should hate him. The Catholic in him needed it - her punishment - to come full circle with his guilt. He wasn't entirely convinced that she wasn't baiting him as buildup for her eventual full-force rage. Just as he noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring, she spoke.

"How have you been, Elliot?"

It was the most loaded of casual questions. He wanted desperately to be collected and cool. His heart was still pounding. "Turns out I'm not so good at retirement." He chuckled, not sure how interested he was in trying to defend himself. "There's only so many times you can mow the lawn before you go crazy, I guess."

He had no idea of her relationship with Tucker, that Tucker had asked her to put down her shield, and so he wondered at the knowing nod she gave him. "How are the kids? And Kathy?"

"The kids are great. Eli is almost ten," he reminded her. "He's constantly up to something. And funny – so funny. Not sure where he gets that from. The girls are all living on their own, getting too close to marriage for my liking. Dickie loves university, I imagine because of the women and not the studying." Elliot chuckled with pride, but the smile slipped off his face slowly as he switched gears: "And Kathy . . . Kathy is ok. The same as she always was."

It wasn't a lie. It was all he would say of his marriage.

"How old is Noah?" he asked her after they eyed each other some more over their coffee mugs.

"Almost four now."

He would not – _could_ not – ask her if she was married. If she refused to volunteer it, then he would move on to more neutral territory: "I hear you're the Lieutenant now. Long overdue, in my opinion. Proud of you, Liv." It came out in a husky, low gruff tone with a smile that showed his teeth. He meant for more than just the promotion.

"Thank you. It's been a lot of work – having to prove myself to One PP and prove myself as a parent at the same time. I . . . " she met his eyes, "I've been through a lot in four years. More, in six."

 _I know_. It almost slipped out before he could catch it. He swallowed hard, feeling the words move to his eyes. He wondered if that was one of the things that had stayed the same – her being able to read the look in them. _What did he do to you?_ he wanted to ask, _Tell me everything._

What he asked was: "Is everything okay?"

She chuckled and dipped her head the way he loved. "I'm not sure everything is ever okay, for people who do what we do. But things are definitely better." As she smiled, she reached out to ruffle Noah's hair and Elliot's heart jumped.

When she looked back at him, her eyes were soft. "I've thought of you, Elliot. More than you might think."

He blinked, wanting so much to respond, but his lungs refused to inflate. A hard swallow, a lick of his lips. "I . . . I'm so sorry, Liv. I've missed you." It seemed like a pitiful response – it didn't even begin to express the nights spent on the balcony, or the way his heart had lived in his throat for most of the past six years.

When she asked the question he had feared most, her voice was barely above a murmur:

". . . Why, El?"

vii.

And how do you say, _I was afraid that I loved you more than my wife?_ How could he explain, that it had taken his retirement for his faith and his heart to finally go to war? Where were the words, to tell her how every text, every message she'd left those six years ago had been like scratches he carried upon his skin?

"Olivia," he said quietly, keeping his voice even for the sake of her son, "you can't imagine . . . how hard all of those decisions were. D'you think it was how I imagined my career ending? With all that death and grief? Chri –" he glanced at Noah, "Cripes. I spent all those years, Liv, working so hard to prove to IAB, One PP, that I wasn't the screw-up they all thought I was. And somehow, I managed to follow in my father's footsteps anyway!

"What a nightmare, Liv. I was exhausted, and ashamed . . . so when Tucker offered me the easy way out, I took it, for once. I didn't have enough left in me to try and prove anything anymore." He stopped, sipped his coffee, hoping desperately that she would understand.

"You were a great cop, Elliot," she said softly. "I'm sorry about Jenna – about how everything went down."

He put down his coffee cup with resolve. "I couldn't have you talk me out of it, Liv." At last, his rib cage loosened, letting the words free. "And if I had come back . . . if I had seen your face, if I had answered your messages – I would have. I was done. I **needed** to be. You weren't. You deserved more than a partner who came back for all the wrong reasons."

The silence settled over them, then. Faintly, they could hear Noah coloring, coloring. Elliot kept his gaze fixed on the table, as though all the words he had spilled just piled up between them like the end of a Jenga game. He reminded himself to breathe.

When her hand closed over his in the middle of the table, he startled in his chair. "El." Her voice so gentle it raised goosebumps on his flesh. "I wish it had gone another way. I forgave you a long time ago. It just would have been . . . easier . . . if we could have avoided hurting each other."

It had taken six years, but absolution had come, at last. He squeezed her hand in his. "I was a jerk."

"Well," she smiled, and for a second he felt the years rewind in a blink, "that much I was used to."

viii.

Kathy wasn't home when he got back. Just as well – his face was plastered with a smile he didn't want to explain. His keys clattered into the dish on the kitchen island as he opened the fridge, looking for a celebratory beer. As he was sucking with pleasure at the cold neck of the bottle he'd found, his cell vibrated in his pocket.

It wasn't the sight of Liv's number that stilled beat of his heart. It was the words of her text message:

**_THE SUNFLOWERS?_ **

His fingertips hovered a long, long time over the phone's keyboard. They thrummed, and twitched. His throat demanded more beer.

**_YES._ **

Elliot hit send and took a deep breath – his deepest in six years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Spoilers: Listen. Pretty much anything is fair game from Season 13 on - especially anything related to Liv's personal life. So if you haven't watched since then, or aren't caught up to Season 18, and you don't want spoilers, you should avoid.**

**Rating: T for this chapter**

**Talisman: II**

_So I wait for you, like a lonely house, 'til you will see me again, and live in me. –_ Pablo Neruda

A lot of things had changed in six years. But then again, a lot of things had stayed the same.

In the days, and then weeks that followed their reunion in the coffee shop, Liv and Elliot began texting each other. Slowly at first: _How was your day?_ and _Traffic sucks at this hour_. Sometimes just _Goodnight_.

Then it was more like really talking. It was _You'll never guess what Noah did_ , and _Are you getting enough sleep?_ More and more often, Olivia found herself shutting the office door, eating her lunch with her phone in one hand, texting Elliot.

With a smile on her face.

It took no time at all for Fin, then Rollins to notice, but when asked, Liv was surprised to find herself shrugging it off. Why wasn't she angry? She had every right to have dragged El through the proverbial ringer. Olivia supposed, if asked, that she'd have said she always just assumed she and Elliot would have been partners until they retired – at the same time. Or, God forbid, until one of them died in the line of duty, as morbid as it might sound. But, the truth was that she had never given it much thought. After twelve years together, what the end looked like wasn't something they had discussed. Even their growing older wasn't a topic they broached.

In a blink, it had all been over. Twelve years of working side by side, talking every day, a lifetime worth of hours spent in cars, on stakeouts, in the squad. Then nothing.

They had spoken every day for more than a decade, and he had walked out of her life without so much as a "kiss my ass" to tuck under her pillow. She had heard that nowadays it was called "ghosting," but for her it had simply been ruinous. The aftershocks had rippled outward in her life for years. Elliot had been – as he had once pointed out – her longest relationship with a man, and more than that, her longest relationship, partnership, friendship . . . with _anyone_.

In the years following Elliot's departure, Olivia watched the legacy and foundation of the 1-6 begin to shift, as if her pairing with Elliot had been the last thing preventing the squad from aging. Munch finally retired, new detectives came and went, while Liv found herself drifting, longing for the past. So she'd dug in her heels and tried, for the first time, not to run. While she would never deny that she had fallen in love with David Hayden, a part of her knew all along that it had been about proving Elliot wrong.

Anxious to fill the empty part of her life that was accentuated by El's leaving, Olivia had fought hard to finally go for the right, healthy thing, instead of the right-looking thing. Instead of the thing that hushed precinct rumors about her relationship with her partner. In the end, it was just another failed attempt at normalcy that left her numb and directionless.

ii.

It was then that Brian had reappeared, giving Liv what felt like a chance to go back in time. The familiarity of it was a comfort to her, and for a while, she could imagine that it was 1999 again, and it was just about sex and the job.

When it came to sex, it was as it had always been between her and Cassidy: there was lots of it, but not much of a meeting of minds elsewhere. Nevertheless, for a time it seemed to work, and after her abduction she found herself moving in with him.

The truth, however, was that when she had found herself wondering if William Lewis would kill her, it was Elliot she had ached for, not Brian. It was Elliot she wanted to cry out for, that she prayed would save her. And when Lewis had seen right through her, it had terrified and enraged her. Nobody was allowed to touch that wound – not even her.

After the abduction, even as they began living together, Olivia felt herself quietly packing away parts of herself that she was too tired to share anymore. It was a place she could easily have remained in, indefinitely, if Brian hadn't pointed out that they were moving in opposite directions. Something inside her that had been idle for years had turned over again, and Liv knew that Brian wasn't going with her on the journey.

iii.

Donald Cragen had been Olivia's C. O. for more than 15 years when he announced his retirement. He had been kind enough to tell her in advance – and shrewd enough to put her onto taking the Sergeant's Exam.

Cragen was the closest thing to a father that Liv had known. He had guided her, watched over her, and taught her. Her Captain had handed down discipline, when necessary, to keep her in line, and also given her leeway to push the line every now and then.

She had loved him, as a father, for almost as long as she had known him – loved his office with its hidden candy, his old-man distrust of technology, and the sound of his voice with just the two of him in his office, when she was still a green detective. More than that, Olivia loved that Cragen had overcome the struggle that had consumed her mother.

With her relationship with Cassidy winding down, and two years of silence from Elliot under her belt, she hadn't taken the news of Cragen's retirement well. It was the biggest of SVU's foundational stones finally giving way, and she was tired of being sad. Donald Cragen had built, in Olivia, a legacy he wanted to leave behind – wanted her to now command. It brought her age into clear, sharp focus. And then, as life would have it, she laid eyes on Noah.

From the first time she saw him, somehow Liv knew that he would be her son. She also knew it wouldn't be easy. But the dream of being a mother that she had boxed neatly away in what felt like another lifetime had caught fire and this time Olivia knew it would not ever make it back to the shelf. It was a dream that she had really only ever discussed with Elliot. Maybe because he was well-known in the squad to be a father of a big family, or maybe because he had always quieted her fears regarding her genes and motherhood. They worked a hard unit, a unit that marched out every reason imaginable as to why bringing children into the world was asking for trouble – and still, Elliot had insisted that he would stand behind her if she wanted them. Not since 2010, when Gladys Dalton had left her tiny daughter's life literally in Liv's hands, had motherhood been front and center.

iv.

Cragen retired. They kept in touch; he'd send post cards from his retirement cruises, and pictures of his girlfriend's grandkids, holiday cards. Every now and then, he'd even call – but it wasn't the same. His voice was always so light, so far away from the dark of sex crimes, and while she would never begrudge him the peace he had worked for, that divide between them was hard to bridge.

Her Cassidy phase was over, and her time not spent on her future at the 1-6 was spent on the journey of becoming Noah's mother – on paper, as well as at home. After Lewis, Liv finally found a way to make the therapy stick, and it was doing her a world of good.

Then, after the ceremony that celebrated her change in rank to Lieutenant, a card had arrived at the precinct, with a single red rose. If it hadn't been for the fact that she still recognized his handwriting, it never would have stood out among the flood of congratulatory messaged she had received.

Her heart had pounded painfully as she'd read the single word – _Congratulations_ – over and over. Holding the rose in her unsteady had, she had lifted the receiver on her desk phone, imagining his low, familiar voice filling her ear.

But what do you say, when years have passed? The weight of all that time was so heavy. It seemed easier, to let the one-word card serve as a sweet placeholder between them.

So things continued to change, but finally she seemed to find a routine, and a calm in her new role as Mom. Olivia stopped resisting change, and tried to find ways to relate to her new squad as she commanded them. Life began to flow more organically, and before she knew it, time was flying as it always had. Noah got bigger and more beautiful every day, while Elliot seemed to recede into the back of her mind – a memory box that she'd take down and dust off every now and then. She convinced herself she was learning to let go.

v.

Once, Olivia had imagined what she might say if Elliot ever asked her how after seventeen years in SVU, she found herself dating Edward Tucker.

Ed Tucker, who had been despised by Cragen, Munch, Fin, Elliot – and even herself, for years. Tucker from IAB, who had thought her guilty of murder and sent her to Rikers. He had been eager to sink Elliot's career – going toe to toe and spitting fire with everyone in the unit at least once.

Her taste in men was never something that she and El had discussed. If they had, it would have been a short and telling conversation. When she wasn't going for men in positions of power, she was usually going for any man who was convenient, to stop the rumors and looks she received, or men who were emotionally unavailable. "People change," she could say, but it wasn't the whole truth. Perhaps Liv would give some excuse about her age, not wanting to spend her life without a partner. But she was not so stupid as to think any answer would be satisfactory if Elliot ever did ask.

Nor was she so stupid as to not see that what she was doing with Ed was mostly going through the motions. Yes, she was happy to have someone in her life, to see at the end of the day and unwind with. Liv was grateful, for how well he treated her and the things that they experienced together. The relationship brought another long-overdue degree of normalcy to a life lived in an intense, chaotic unit. But if confronted, she'd be lying if she said it was _passionate_. What it was, at best, was the emotional equivalent of comfort food: it was warm, it was easy, it was temporarily filling.

And predictable. It was a relationship of connect the dots – each step happened at the right time, at the same pace, toward eventualities that Olivia preferred not to dwell on. She didn't talk about dating Ed, either before or after being forced to confirm it among her squad, and that was her choice as well; a level of privacy that she had worked to maintain even before all of the changes in the unit.

Ed had helped Noah serve her a lovely (predictable) breakfast in bed the first Mother's Day that they were together – complete with a bouquet of flowers and a card that Noah had scribbled in. She kissed Ed goodbye and hurried off to work afterward, narrowly avoiding being late.

As she stepped into her office that warm May morning, that memory box where Elliot stayed had fallen off the shelf, scattering emotions and thoughts across the floor of her mind.

An impossibly large bunch of sunflowers sat on her desk, with another card, bearing the handwriting that was burned into permanent memory. _Happy Mother's Day_ it said this time. Liv began breathing heavy just from reading it. How did he know? How _could_ he know? Was he purposely trying to get her to reach out? Her belly tingled and contracted with pleasure and confusion.

And just like that, it was the beginning of the end of things with Tucker.

vi.

After the sunflowers she would have dreams of him. Mostly odd dreams that she couldn't untangle, but every now and then, an erotic dream would insert itself among them. On those mornings she would wake up flustered, and always wet between the thighs. It was foolishly pubescent, and she chided herself, as she had mastered hiding those feelings about Elliot for longer than anyone could imagine possible.

Things with Tucker continued on a little longer, a few dots left to connect. Liv knew something was coming before Ed brought it up, although, she had imagined that it was going to be a marriage proposal. Maybe it was, in his very cordial and old-fashioned way, she supposed. But putting down her shield? It wasn't even a thought that had ever crossed her mind. She saw herself much like Cragen – working until One PP handed down the ultimatum to retire, 'or else.' As hard as she tried, to look ahead to the next dot with Ed – travelling, raising Noah, aging into the sunset – she couldn't see it. And despite the past, he deserved more than that; deserved someone who was going into those golden years with him for reasons more compelling than, "nobody else ever asked me."

So then it was over.

In the shifting light of dawn, before Noah was awake and the mundanity of dressing, eating, leaving were closing in, Olivia still woke with web-like threads of dreams of El on her skin. She unapologetically indulged herself, her fingers gliding, hips arching. But she refused to even breathe his name, convinced that it was the talisman that would beak her in the end.

vii.

It was Elliot who had turned around in the coffee shop. By then, there were six years between them. Too many, for things to be immediately comfortable, but not enough for either of them to walk away without speaking. She watched the way El kept sneaking looks at Noah, his eyes glowing with pleasure and curiosity. The weight of the things that she wanted to tell him was immense, but her need to know that he was okay – to ask why he had left her was more important.

But it was just an exercise; it was just getting it out of the way so that they could say it had been brought up. In their own, minimalistic way of communicating, it was an apology. With the way they had been used to interacting, she knew it could be months, even years, before they asked each other anything difficult. Liv wanted to enjoy the ability to just talk to him, for now.

She told herself that she wasn't disappointed when he had mentioned Kathy, and she fought hard to remember how it had been – six years before, when the knowledge of Kathy's existence was just background static that rarely manage to make her upset. But she stopped touching herself after her dreams, as though the mere fact of Elliot being back in her life was its own condemnation.

viii.

  
After a long day, as Liv found herself packing up to go relieve Lucy, her cell chimed with a text from El. She pulled it open as she shouldered her purse, pausing to lock the door to the office on her way out.

**WANNA GRAB A BEER TONIGHT?**

They hadn't seen each other in person since the coffee shop, and just reading the text caused Liv's belly to flop.

**IS MY PLACE OK?** she replied. Declining hadn't even crossed her mind.

**YES.**

**MEET ME THERE, I'LL PUT NOAH TO BED**. Taking a deep breath, Liv sent him her address.


	3. Chapter 3

**Rating: T, this chapter**

**Spoilers: Surrender Benson, Chasing Theo/Any episode that deals with the Tucker arc**

**Talisman: III**

_Make up your mind_

_Decide to walk with me_

_...By my side_

_I'm not gonna lie_

_I'll not be a gentleman_ _..._

_I'll show you my dark secret_

_I'm not gonna lie_

_I want you for mine_

_My blushing bride_

_My lover, be my lover, yeah ..._ \- from Possum Kingdom, by Toadies

Elliot was one of the few happy memories that Liv had managed to salvage from her old place. William Lewis had taken more than anyone knew, from her, and from the world she had built to that point. Now, it had been nearly six and a half years since she and Elliot had been alone in a non-work setting.

But _this_ life - the one where she was a mother, and a Lieutenant - it was like they were meeting for the first time again, on a much more even playing field.

It made her nervous.

Noah remembered Elliot right away, and busied himself showing the man every toy in sight. Liv changed out of her work clothes, and got a snack ready for him. Then, he was finally tucked in, and by the end of a second story, had drifted to sleep.

"I owe you an apology," Liv said as she grabbed the bottle of beer El had opened for her, and sank onto the couch.

"What in the hell for?"

"I never gave you nearly enough credit for how much this takes - raising a kid, and working the job."

He smiled warmly. "Yeah, well. Try it with four more."

"Yeah, no thanks," Liv laughed. After a pause, she added, "But I wouldn't give this up for the world."

"I'm so glad, Liv," El grinned, "I always knew you'd be an amazing mother."

"Speaking of four more - tell me about yours."

"I did tell you."

"No, I mean, _really_ tell me. What are they doing? Where are they?"

Maureen, as it turned out, would likely soon be engaged to an ambitious law student that she'd been dating for several years. She had studied economics herself, and was a policy analyst in the city. Kathleen, on the other hand, had shown little to no interest in dating since her manic episode nine years earlier. She had finished out Hudson with a degree in Psychology, choosing to work with troubled teens, and those with addictions. Olivia couldn't help but feel a flush of pride at the information - a feeling that she'd had a hand in helping Katie turn that page all those years before.

The twins were settling in and finding direction in their sophomore year, and Eli was growing up - in a markedly different home. It was not the house full of kids that his brother and sisters had shared. Eli was the only Stabler child to face the daunting task of childhood under both his parents' austere gazes - with no sibling at home to either back him up, or throw him under the bus.

"It's quiet a lot," Elliot chuckled. "Took me a long time not to be suspicious of silence anymore."

"I'll bet," Liv nodded. "It still feels strange, sometimes, not coming home to an empty apartment."

Liv told him of Munch's retirement, and Cragen's. She talked about the changes in the squad, showed El pictures of Cragen in shirts patterned with palm trees, of his Senior's Cruises and step-grandkids. But for everything they said, there was something left unsaid. Neither of them talked of William Lewis, for one. Nor did Elliot ask questions that alluded to Noah's life before Olivia.

And they didn't talk about Kathy.

"How's the P. I. life workin' for you?"

El clasped his hands together over his knees, leaning forward. "It's . . ." he shrugged, "not very rewarding," he admitted. "As much as SVU was hard, and dark . . . I much prefer working with the victims. All I'm doing now is providing fuel for the fires of angry, rich employers."

El took a long pull of his beer, swallowing hard. "To be honest, Liv, it bores the shit outta me."

"Then why do it at all?" she asked him, straightening so that they were sitting side by side, in similar positions, thighs touching.

"Because I got bored," he said, with no attempt to make it seem more complicated. He turned his head, inches from Liv's, so grateful to be looking into her dark eyes again after so much time had passed. "But I guess I'm not as good at keeping myself awake as you were," he smiled. "I dunno . . ." he lowered his voice, the familiar timbre of it giving Liv shivers, "maybe I'm just no good at jobs where you don't have my back."

"Mama?" Noah's quiet voice ended the two adults gaze as it verged on dangerous.

"Hey, Sweetie!" Liv crossed to where he was standing, hesitantly in the doorway at the head of the hall. "I'm sorry - did we wake you up? C'mon, I'll tuck you back in."

"Can El do it, Mama?"

Olivia looked at her son rather blankly for a moment, then glanced back to the couch. Elliot got to his feet with a nod. "Yeah, I can do that." He hooked the boy by the armpits and hoisted him up, letting him lean over to kiss Liv's cheek.

"Night, sweet boy." She watched the two of them go down the hall, her heart pounding, overwhelmed by emotions she had long ago tucked away.

**ii.**

Elliot found himself mesmerized by the boy's room as he let Noah get settled back in his bed. El had thought about just this - about Olivia, having a child, and what that might look like. About what kind of mother she would be.

Noah's room was colorful, and mostly neat for his age - though, whether that was the result of the boy's disposition or Liv's cleaning was unclear. There were quite a few drawings on the walls. "You like to draw, huh?" he said, pulling up the blankets to tuck the little one in.

"Yes," Noah said, in the bright and exaggerated way that only toddlers can.

"That's great," El smiled, "I like your pictures. You're really talented." He sat on the edge of the bed, the way he imagined Liv also did. Across from where he sat, there was another drawing. "Who's that?" El pointed. "With you and your mom?" Immediately, he felt guilty. It was a tactic - from his SVU days. It was breaking his personal rule. But he couldn't take it back.

"That's Tucker," Noah answered with a yawn. "He used to come visit Mama, before I met you." He was already starting to fall asleep again. "Are you going to keep visiting us?"

Elliot was struggling to take a deep breath. It was as though Noah had - unintentionally - punched a hole straight through his chest. "Yeah," he managed to whisper. When he turned his head, Noah was asleep.

Which he thought was just as well - because he wasn't sure that his answer wasn't just another promise that he'd end up breaking.

**iii.**

The walk from the end of the hall back to the living room was an eternity. What was he supposed to say? He was still married . . . technically . . . it wasn't his place to start asking questions.

But _Tucker?!_ Edward Tucker - the IAB rat who had gone after both their careers over the years, who had sold Liv down the river!? Christ - he could have handled almost anything better than this.

Then there was no hallway left, and he crossed to the living room. Liv put down her beer and turned her head. "Hey. How'd it go? Did he give you any trouble?" She smiled, and it cut him, a bittersweet burn of pleasure-pain. For so long he'd been afraid that they would never be here, like this, again.

"No, no trouble," Elliot forced out. He leaned in the doorway, trying to calm his thoughts, arms crossed over his chest.

Liv's gaze narrowed. "You okay?"

He looked at her, plagued with the image of Tucker, kissing Liv - or worse. Clearing his throat, he came back the couch. "I'm okay," he lied, taking a desperate swig of beer as he fumbled for a segue way.

Liv, of course, wasn't buying it. "El?"

"Have you been seeing anyone?" It was out before he could really consider it.

His old partner leaned back slightly, trying to read his expression. Liv looked away when she spoke, to the coffee table. "It's been a lot of years, Elliot. I've seen people. I've ended things with people, too. Why do you ask?"

". . . Just curious," he told her, his tone carefully controlled.

"Cassidy and I had another go-round," she told him, choosing the safest territory.

For a moment, El was almost comforted by it; at least some things hadn't changed. It caused a chuckled to bubble out of him, and he unclenched. "Yeah? How is Brian? I guess not much different, considering."

"Nah, it wasn't that," Liv smiled. "He's great, we were just . . . going down different paths, is all."

It had been like this for them, for as long as they could remember. Awkward, bordering on uncomfortable between them when discussing their respective relationships. They both knew why, and had spent 12 years tight-roping a fine line together. _For better or worse._

"Noah asked if I would be visiting more."

Liv took a deep breath. "Did he?" She swallowed.

"Yeah. He, uh . . . he mentioned that Tucker . . ." El met Liv's eyes, "doesn't come by anymore."

Olivia visibly paled, but couldn't look away. She swallowed again, her throat now dry, and exhaled another deep breath.

"El, I . . ." she false-started, trailed off.

"Olivia." Her name was like ice from his lips. A long pause followed. "Is it true?"

"Yes." She dropped her gaze on the one-word answer.

"Liv - " and now his voice was pained, almost pleading. "Why? _How?_ " It wasn't _How could you_ , but it was as close as it got outside of the movies.

Something turned over in Liv then, and she bristled. "It's been more than six years, Elliot." Her tone was harsh, her voice a gruff whisper. "Everything is different. People are different."

"Not _that_ different!" he hissed, letting her fire spread to him. "He tried to ruin us, Liv! Both of us - Christ, nearly the whole squad over the years!"

"You're the one who hasn't changed," she shot back. "So stubborn. Not everyone stays the same, El - and unlike you, some of us are people outside the job."

"Then how is it that you still haven't learned you deserve better? Better than someone who sent you to goddamn jail?"

Her hand shot out, poking him in the chest. "And how the hell do _you_ know what I need? Or want, huh? You haven't even been here!"

She could tell that she had cut tender flesh with that one, and she straightened her shoulders.

"Is he his? Is Tucker Noah's father?" Elliot reproached.

Olivia got to her feet.

**v.**

Flustered, as she always was when something personal hit too close to home, Liv looked down at Elliot with hurt, affronted eyes.

"I think you need to leave."

He stood up. "Is that a yes?"

"I'm not sure what you think gives you the right to ask _anything_ about my son's parentage," she said tersely, "but no."

Elliot was searching her face as though trying to decide if he could believe her - but his chest had loosened at her 'no.'

"El. Please. You should go."

He recognized that tone and her stance all too well; he had seen and heard them too many times in the dozen years they'd spent in SVU - when he had fucked up, and deserved it. Like now.

Breaking their gaze, El went to the door to grab his jacket and put on his shoes. He hesitated only as he palmed the doorknob.

"Night, Liv," he told her quietly.

**vi.**

After he had gone, and the beer bottles were moved to the kitchen, Liv found herself in Noah's bedroom doorway, watching her son sleep. Her own breathing was still rapid, as were her thoughts.

What bothered her most, with Elliot gone, was not that he had leapt to the conclusion he had - but that his doing so spoiled the cocoon of comfort she'd been allowing herself to delight in. It had been so easy to slip back into their easy back and forth. Just like always, they spoke and interacted as though Kathy didn't exist. It was a perfect, perilous line they'd walked for years, that had many rules.

They had been master of those rules, even when they'd changed over time. But now there was her son, and the years between them to navigate. Olivia wasn't ready to play all her cards at once, and she was pissed at Elliot for expecting her too. That wasn't how their game was played - and she thought he knew that.

Even more than that, though, she was pissed that she wanted him - more than she ever had in all their previous years together.

The following morning, she awoke wetter than ever. As Liv crashed over the edge of her orgasm, she gasped his name, then tried to forget that she had let herself do so.


	4. Chapter 4

**Rating: T, this chapter**

**Spoilers: Same as last chapter**

**Talisman: IV**

_the very thought of you/has my legs spread apart/like an easel with a canvas/begging for art - rupi kaur_

He banished himself back to the balcony. Like a dog who'd peed on the rug, he stayed there late into the night. More than six years apart and he'd somehow managed to let it get away from him in less than a month. The older he got, the easier it was getting to believe the lesson that his years at SVU had tried, and failed, to teach him: he was never going to learn.

Elliot couldn't be sure how much of his feeling betrayed was rightfully earned, from years of managing to refrain from putting Tucker in traction - and how much of it was, well, personal. He wanted to think that his testosterone was in better check nowadays, but the real truth of it all was, his testosterone had never been in check where Liv was concerned - not once, in 18 years.

Sure, he could rationalize, and say it was because he hated Tucker - for going after him all those years. The man had backed El into a corner when that last shoot had gone down, causing Elliot to lose so much more than just the job. _Some of us are people outside the job_ , Olivia had said, not knowing how deep that fear ran.

He'd never told her - or anyone - how he had cursed his faith, his likeness to his long-dead father, and the woeful ironies of timing. Elliot's long-suffering marriage had gone on longer than he could have dreamed - laboring for years under the assumption that Kathy would get fed up and finally give up on him.

It was an odd bid for freedom, he knew. But his stubborn ties to his faith, not to mention a senseless drive to atone for his parents' disastrous marriage, made it the only freedom Elliot was willing to entertain.

Part of El had gotten to wondering, since retiring, that if he'd tried harder, to stay, if things might have finally gone in his favor. Maybe he could have put down his cross to bear, and learned how to be someone . . . outside the job. Because somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten.

And entertaining the idea that Ed Tucker - of all the fucking jack holes - had stuck around long enough to scoop up what should have been Elliot's life, was just enough to get Elliot thinking about throwing himself from the fucking balcony.

It was the thought that finally drove him inside, to bed.

**ii.**

"You okay?" Barba asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. What's up?"

"You sure? For a second there when you picked up, you sounded disappointed."

"I'm good. What do you need?"

Olivia fidgeted with items on her desk while Rafael went over a few things he needed for a casae. She'd had an obsessive eye on her phone all morning, despite her having been the one who had asked Elliot to leave.

It felt an awul lot like six and half years ago: waiting for the phone to ring, her pulse hammering with every ding of a text message.

Liv thought of all the work she'd done, on herself, on her career, and everything that she had overcome. And all of it - without Elliot. She was more than just "Benson and Stabler," now, more, even, than "the one who used to be Elliot Stabler's partner." There was Noah to think about, and the thought of somehow going backwards, after such immese, painful self-growth . . . knocked the wind out of her.

As much as she craved him, she wasn't ready anymore, to jump into the path of Elliot's self-destruction. Olivia exhaled a heavy breath as she flipped her cell over, face-down on her desk.

"No going backwards," she whispered.

**iii.**

**WANNA GRAB SOME LUNCH?**

Elliot put down the file he was scouring and picked up his cell from the passenger seat. it was Kathleen. Every now and then, the two of them would go to lunch together when they were working close by each other.

Since her Bipolar diagnosis nearly a decade ago, Kathleen was the one of his five children that he was closest with. It wasn't immediate; it had happened slowly over the years, as his daughter had gotten healthy, and then had found a use for her intelligence and her journey.

Kathleen had less patience than her mother, and a way of pushing Elliot, just enough to end up making the truths he feared seem childish, at times. It reminded him of Liv, to be honest - and how she could see through him, no matter how hard he fought to hide.

 **PLEASE!** he texted back. **PASTA?**

**YOU READ MY MIND.**

**iv.**

He met her in a greasy little Italian place that she loved.

"This place is probably a mob front - you know that, right?" He dropped into the booth across from Kathleen.

"So what if it is?" she shrugged as she sipped her water. "The food's amazing. Isn't that what you came for?"

"Well," he smirked, "the company's not too bad, either."

"How's work, Dad?"

"Oh, you know, same old story." Elliot glanced at the menu, even though they never really needed it. "I just got assigned a new file. How's yours?"

"The best!" she chirped, as was her norm. Every challenge just kept the fire in her eyes lit. He'd hardly heard her complain since university ended - she often joked that it was his reward for putting up with her as a teen.

The waiter came, and they got their usual, which for her was a Caesar salad and a piece of lasagna, for him, spaghetti with meatballs. Elliot often snuck glances at his daughter during these informal lunches, overwhelmed by the fact of his children growing older, and the changes in them every time he saw them.

Rarely did theyever get dessert, but would linger over cups of coffee - or sometimes a glass of wine, since her father's days of telling her what to do were put to rest.

"How are things with mom?" she asked him that day, catching her father staring out the window.

"Fine," Elliot told her, with no attempt to go into any detail.

"Mm. Yeah. Fine," Kathleen echoed. "I'm sorry to hear that."

El raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"C'mon, Dad." Kathleen wrapped both hands around her coffee mug. "You've said the same thing about you and mom now for as long as I can remember."

"So? Is 'fine,' not 'fine' anymore?"

"You and mom weren't always fine," she stressed. "For years now - definitely not fine."

He shifted, uncomfortable. "Are you tryin' to shrink me, right now?"

"Dad." Her voice was serious, and the smirk slipped off his face. "All those years ago, when you and mom split up . . . did you guys ever talk about divorce?"

There was a heavy silence between them for a minute. El and Kathy had never fully discussed with the kids the divorce that was never completely processed, those ten years ago. And because it never came to pass, they'd seen no reason to discuss it after the fact, either. But none of their kids were stupid.

"Talk about how it's a sin, you mean?"

It was a poor stall, at best - as Elliot was well aware that Kathleen hadn't grown to exactly embrace her faith. She told him once that Catholicism wasn't "the religion of addicts."

"That reminds me - I've been meaing to welcome you to the twenty-first century. . . ." Kathleen rolled her eyes.

Her father fidgeted with his napkin, then sighed. "You think your mother would be happier without me, huh?"

She was smart. Not cruel. "No. I think you guys spent a lot of years raising us . . . and did a great job. But, I also think people change," she shrugged. "Spending as much time apart as you and mom had to, only makes that gap wider."

Kathleen touched her father's hand gently, across the table. "I just think both of you have waited long, and worked hard enough to deserve something . . . more."

"What about Eli?"

"Eli is a strong kid," she reminded him. "Besides - d'you think watching you and mom mope around the house together is doing him any favors?"

El squirmed under his 28-year-old daughter's gaze, and the wisdow beyond her years there. "Did your mom ask you to talk to me?" he asked quietly.

Kathleen snorted. "Mom? No." Finishing her coffee, she glanced at her watch. "You should know better. I gotta run, Dad." Elliot reahed for the bill, but she stopped him. "I'll get it."

"You handing out your counselling for free now?" he chuckled.

"Well," she grinned as she stood up, "when we're even, you'll know." She kissed his cheek, leaning into the booth. "Bye, Daddy."

**v.**

It had taken Liv a long time to convince Rollins to go home and be with Jesse, and now, she was about ready to do the same. Only the overnight guys were left in the bullpen - and then stuck mostly to their desks, making it the quietest time of day for SVU, usually.

Liv put her things together as her laptop shut down, and found her keys. She was looking over her shoulder, making sure she hadn't forgotten anything, before she went to lock her office door, when he spoke:

"Never thought I'd step foot in this place again."

Elliot was perched on the edge of a desk, across from the door, with his arms folded loosely over his chest. Just the image of him, back in the precinct, raised goosebumps as if he were a ghost. Olivia slowly pulled her glasses down the bridge of her nose and off.

"Hi, Liv."

Her head dipped. "Hey, Elliot."

"You have a minute?"

She pushed the door open, gesturing back inside the office. She turned on the light. "What's up, El?" Liv kept her voice neutral and light, folding her glasses shut.

He was smiling when she looked up, and she just managed to keep from rolling her eyes. "The glasses look good," he told her.

"Thanks." She waited, refusing to engage until she had a feel for where his head was.

Elliot cleared his throat. "Liv, I uh . . . I came to apologize."

She waited.

"Apparently retirement hasn't done anything for my communication skills, either. Look, Liv - I never shoulda jumped down your throat like that. And I really am sorry. I'm sure neither of us expected me to find out, that way.

"Noah just . . . caught me off-guard, that's all. I just hope that you can understand why it was so hard for me to hear. Even if it has been a long time."

"Yeah." Liv chuffed out a sigh. "Yeah, I do. I mean, I can." She looked up at him as she sat on her office couch. "I'm sorry you found out that way."

Elliot took his time, in the silence that followed, admiring Liv: the healthy weight she'd put on, every new laugh line, every worry line that he had been forced to miss. Her face, so familiar but more wise, that El had tried to forget was so beautiful. It was no longer clear to him how he'd managed to work by her side for 12 years.

His heart was racing. He tried hard to remember the last time Kathy had set his heart going like that.

"Noah's adopted, El."

Elliot couldn't very well say he was relieved, so he nodded. "Good for you, Liv. He's beautiful." He did not ask where the child had come from.

"It's been . . . hard," Liv admitted, "but also just the best damn thing." When she looked up, she caught him staring out the window of what he probably still thought of as 'Cragen's old office.'

She got up, crossing to stand behind him. Stabler had left before there was time for him to adjust to the new precinct. Even with all the changes . . . Elliot's eyes were rooted to the spot where Jenna Fox hadbeen shot, in 2011.

Olivia took a deep breath, wanting to tell him that it wasn't his fault, but knew that would devolve into his reasons why it was. Instead, she stepped up next to him so they were shoulder-to-shoulder.

"It's a different place, without you," she said softly.

"Thanks." He tried to smile, but it was gone beore it even reached the corners of his mouth. "The world's a different place, too, Liv. The job moved on, too."

"You're a great cop, Elliot. I . . . " she hesitated, "I really wanted you to come back."

Elliot never took his eyes from the window. He felt his stomach turn over as he spoke:

"I might have - if it wasn't for Tucker."

**vi.**

"What did you just say?" Liv's voice was breathless.

Elliot grit his teeth until he could feel his pulse in his jaw. He levelled his voice and tried not to start another fight. "Olivia . . . " he turned his head finally, to look at her.

"El, don't. I know how much you hate Tucker, but . . ."

"Didn't you ever ask, Liv?" El reached a hand, intending to touch her shoulder, but she took a step back. "Cragen never told you?"

"Told me what?! Or better yet, why didn't you tell me yourself?"

He took another deep breath, walked back to the desk. "After the shoot, Liv, at first all I wanted was to come back - and to talk to you. The next thing I know, I'm in the middle of IAB's investigation . . . hours, every day, answering the same questions over and over.

"Then it was just me and Tucker - he wanted to go over every event in my jacket, Liv. Goin back more than just 12 years. More than just SVU. He wanted everything - all of it."

Liv looked at him blandly. "That was his _job_ , El."

"You're right, it was. But you know how he was - he always liked to get a dig in, any way he could. And after we'd been at it a few days, he starts askin me . . . " Elliot trailed off, looking away.

"Asking yu what?"

"Asking me about you. What kind of partner did I think I was, with you . . . if I thought maybe you deserved a better partner. One who didn't - you know - fly off the handle. The more he went on, the more it seemed like he was insinuating something inappropriate."

Liv bristled. "You and I both know we never crossed that line."

"I know that. And you know that - but what did Tucker think he knew? Fucked if I know. The more I tried to steer the conversation back to Jenna . . . the more he started spinning his theory, that I had been a lousy partner for a dozen years, and that there must have been a reason why.

"Finally, I flat out refused to answer any questions about you, or our being partners. That's when he gave me an ultimatum. He said I could come back and partner with someone else. They would close the case and just have me submit to regular reviews. Or . . . I could come back and partner with you. As long as I agreed to a battery of psych evals, reprimands, duty restrictions - you name it."

Olivia was gaping at him. Her throat was tight with anger and tears that she refused to give way to.

"I wanted to come back, Liv. But I didn't wanna work with someone who wasn't you - and I didn't want Tucker making my life, yours, a working hell for who knew how long. Not only that, maybe . . . maybe part of me bought his story. I thought maybe you could do better. If I left."

Olivia scoffed. "El, you know that's -"

"Not true?" he finished for her. "So you say, Liv, but . . . you deserved this office, and that child long before I left. Have you ever considered maybe I _was_ holding you back?"

"No," she said flatly. "Because It's not true. How could you think that?"

They both fell silent; their breathing heavy in the quiet room. Olivia thought of Tucker - in Paris, playing with Noah, thought of every time he had made her smile. Her head was throbbing with confusion, and disbelief. She needed the truth, but more than that, she needed to get away from Elliot before she lost her composure.

"You should go," she said, meeting his eyes. Without asking, she knew he could see what she was feeling - a trait in him that she both loved, and hated. "Please."

Elliot left without anything more to say, closing the office door behind him.

Liv's lip began to tremble.


	5. Chapter 5

**Rating: M for language, and mature themes**

**Spoilers: Very minor ones, for episodes from seasons 8, 11, and 17**

**Talisman: V**

_Stay in this job long enough and all of your heroes die._ \- Amanda Rollins, "Collateral Damages"

Tucker's move to Convictions Integrity had resulted in a nicer office, in a newer wing of 1PP. Olivia had a pretty good idea that it had come with a nice bump in pay, too - but Ed had never liked to talk about money.

She had tossed and turned through the night, thinking of what Elliot had said, what he'd insinuated. Once Noah was dropped off to daycare the next morning, Liv had wasted no time in driving straight to Ed's office. He wasn't in yet for the day, so she'd commenced pacing the long hallway as she waited.

"Olivia?"

She turned to see him finally arriving, coffee cup in hand. "I wish you'd called - I woulda brought you a coffee."

Liv didn't respond, just followed behind him as he let himself in and turned on the light. She shut the door behind them and stood across from his desk. Once his keys and coffee cup had been set down, Tucker looked up to ask her to what he owed the pleasure . . . but stopped cold when he saw the gaze she'd fixed him with.

"Liv? You okay?"

Olivia was near to trembling from her rage, disbelief and the sheer indignation of having to be there. "Tucker -" He tilted his head at her use of his last name. Liv took a deep breath and let out a rueful chuckle.

"You know . . . I had to make peace with an awful lot in order to make sense of anything happening between us. I often wondered, why you were so eager to show me that you were a different man. But, after Lewis, I thought, well . . . people deserve that chance. To change. As it turns out, though, I'm just an amazing sucker for punishment."

"Liv -"

She held up a hand. "Oh, I'm not finished! Twelve. _Years._ Elliot and I worked together longer than you were married." Liv smirked at him. "Well, I guess I'm starting to put together why. Almost seven years now, I've been punishing myself - thinking that I'd failed somehow, in being there for my partner when it really mattered.

"Now, unfortunately for you, Elliot has shown back up. And he opened my eyes to your twisted plan."

"My plan." Tucker kept his voice neutral.

"Yes. All those years - you, conveniently showing up any time Elliot even wavered from the book. I mean, I knew you had it out for him, I just never fully knew why.

"Then, when Brady Harrison set me up, you were awfully quick to try and bury me. Yeah. Prying into my private affairs, threatening me with strip searches . . . trying to find all my triggers."

Olivia had started pacing the short length of Ed's office as she spoke, and was now nearly breathless with the pace of it. Facing him again, she stopped pacing. "Once I survived William Lewis, I told myself that I'd survived the worst thing that could happen to me. This many years on the job . . . shot, stabbed, abducted, physically and sexually assaulted, stalked - I mean, you name it.

"You bullied Elliot out of the NYPD, Tucker. You let me, and the squad, think for years that it was his choice to make. You are . . . an unimaginable bastard."

She expected him to explode, but instead, when he spoke, his voice was as calm as if they were discussing what movie to see. "He did have a choice. He chose to go home to the family he'd been neglecting for over a decade."

Liv snorted. "And I bet you don't know a thing about neglecting a marriage, wouldja?"

"I gave him the option of coming back to work," Ed said firmly. "You ever think maybe he just decided that it wasn't worth the trouble?"

"He decided _**you**_ weren't worth the trouble!" she shouted. "Can ya blame him? After all the time you spent, crawling up his ass?!"

"Elliot Stabler was a loose cannon, who ignored the rules and ran out of free passes. Not everything is a vendetta, Liv. I should know. I did you, and your career, a favor."

Olivia stepped forward until her thighs bumped the edge of the desk, and jabbed her finger into the shiny wooden surface. "You listen to me carefully. The only favor you did anyone was yourself: trying to keep Elliot from coming back, because you knew as long as he did, there was never a chance in hell I would say yes to seeing you.

"Everything that's happened to my career, happened because I worked my _ass_ off for it - so save me your ego-stroke."

After a beat, Tucker broke their gaze with a deep breath. He switched gears: "IAB had been on Stabler for a long time, Liv - longer than you know. It was no big secret that you two were too close. Did you really expect it to just go on forever?"

" 'Too close'?" Liv chuckled hollowly. "You mean, everyone thought we were having an affair."

"Your words - not mine."

"Mmm. Well - I've got a revelation for you, Tucker:" she leaned forward, across the desk slightly, "the only one who _fucked_ me . . . is you. For more than 12 years, you fucked me. But you're done, now."

She didn't wait on a response, simply turned on her heel and swept out the door.

**ii**.

Elliot pushed out a sigh and tossed his binoculars to the car's passenger seat. He sipped his coffee and listened to his aging muscles protest as he stretched.

He had been casing his newest file's work location since the evening before, but without any luck. The hours had stretched long, and El ached to text Liv, but he knew she'd need space. He refused to fuck up again - right away, at least.

Instead, he had passed most of the night reminiscing. Old cases, old stakeouts . . . nights spent with Liv, sharing a drink after a hard case, or a big win. Stabler puzzled over when the scales had finally tipped, making Olivia the more important relationship in his life. He asked himself - to no avail - to recall when the tether had finally broken, between he and Kathy. Watching the sun rise, he tortured himself the most by speculating how things might have been different, if he hadn't been such a coward years ago, leaving Liv the way he had.

Finally, as the business he was watching began to open for the day, and his target was still nowhere in sight, El shifted into drive, preparing to head home. He stomped the brake as his cell buzzed before he could move.

**I MISS YOU.**

It was Liv. Elliot smiled, feeling the night wash off him, knowing now that when he got home, he would sleep.

**iii**.

Liv set down her cell as she hit 'send' and let her head drop into her hands. A knock came on the door, and Amanda Rollins let herself in.

"Hey, Liv -"

"Rollins. Is it too early for a drink?"

Amanda smirked. "I won't tell, if you won't. Rough mornin'?"

Liv snorted lightly. "Rough . . . something. That's for sure."

"You need'ta talk?"

"It can wait. What's up, Amanda?"

"Fin and I, we brought in that suspect I told you about - he's squawkin' about havin'ta go into work . . . I figured you'd wanna come watch the interview."

"Yeah." Olivia stood up. "Be right there."

**iv**.

Elliot's all-nighter caught up with him in the shower, where he found himself dozing, his head leaned against the warm tile. Shower dozing was an art that he'd perfected in the 1-6 over the years. Those stolen moments of sleep were sometimes all that stood between a detective and mania when on a 40-plus hour stretch.

Now, of course, El just chalked it up to being 51, and insisting on still working too much.

He dozed, and as he did, he dreamed of Olivia - something that was perfected moreso since exiting the 1-6. Her skin, that Elliot had used every excuse to get fleeting brushes of . . . her eyes that never failed to make his stomach burn as if he was still eighteen. The way his cock always reacted to thoughts of her, he could almost swear he'd be 18 forever.

Speaking of which . . . El let his hand drift to his groin, his head never leaving the tile. Yep - hard as a rock.

Almost lazily, he let himself stroke, thinking of what the taste of her might be, what the weight of the globes of her breasts would be in his hands. Elliot grunted, the low sound reverberating off the ceramic as he felt the tension start to coil in his belly. He shivered.

The door to the shower slid open, and El's eyes snapped to attention as he stood up straight. Kathy stepped into the shower behind him, splaying her cold hands against his back.

"Don't stop now," she whispered.

He swallowed, hard, frozen in place. It had been ages since anything physical had happened between them. He knew Kathy well enough to know that things between them nowadays came at a cost.

"Or, I can finish it for you . . . "

One of her hands started to slide for his crotch, but as it came around his side, Elliot met it, covering it with one of his own. "When'd you get home?" he asked her quietly.

He could feel her demeanour shift, solely from being questioned. She yanked her hand back, her voice petulant: "Since when do you care?"

He bit back a sigh. "Kath . . . "

"It's fine," she lied. The shower door slid open again, and she stepped out, yanking a towel around herself. Kathy's gaze was stormy as she watched him turn off the water and face her. "Doesn't look like I'd have been much help, anyway."

Elliot was a fool, with a flagging erection and a flagging marriage, who didn't understand anymore how they'd let things go this far. Picking up his own towel, he stepped out of the shower. "Why now?" he asked her.

"It shouldn't matter! You're my husband, for God's sake!"

He squeezed his eyes shut, still desperate for sleep. he thought of the text

( _I MISS YOU_ )

and his bed with clean, cool sheets. "Kathy - you've been good for so long. We're both guilty of not noticing each other much. Did something happen?"

The tight line of Kathy's mouth trembled. "I just . . . got lonely." She spun on her heel and tried to busy herself at the vanity.

Elliot had wondered for some time, if Kathy had been having an affair. She'd been away from the house more, and they'd fought less. For the first time in years, she had seemed content - and in some strange way, El was happy for her. 'Don't ask, don't tell' was the only thing letting them still live peacefully under one roof.

Which meant he couldn't very well ask her if she'd ended something with someone. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said. It was sincere - and when she realized that, she stilled. Kathy met his reflection in the mirror from behind her. El thought of the things Kathleen had said. "I am, Kathy. You . . . deserve more than that. You should be happy."

She ran a brush angrily through her damp hair. "What are we _doing_ , Elliot? God! Why couldn't you just have . . . given me my life back, ten years ago when I asked?!"

"I . . . " he opened his mouth, fully intending to insert an excuse. But then, he softened. "I should have. You're right."

Kathy's shoulders slumped as she deflated. "You look tired," she said flatly.

"I was staked out all night."

"You're too old for this shit, Elliot."

Maybe she meant his work. Maybe she meant their tenuous relationship. It was anyone's guess, really.

He chuckled. "You're probably right."

**v**.

The day had been long, and Olivia still hadn't gotten her drink. Not only that - she'd already called ahead to Lucy and asked her to stay late, since there seemed to be no end in sight.

Her squad had been investigating what was starting to look like a serial rapist. Most of the day - after they had been forced to let the perp go - was spent chasing details to make something stick.

She hadn't heard from Elliot since she had texted him that morning, and was becoming more paranoid as time passed that she'd overstepped. That ache, for the old days, was just under the surface, keeping her distracted.

"Liv? You with us?" Fin asked.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry." She turned back to the conference board. "So, how are we wanting to move forward?"

"I think we should try and catch him in the act," Rollins answered. "Y'know, we've got a solid idea what his M. O. looks like. He'll strike close to where he's comfortable . . . I say we be there when he does."

Liv nodded. "I think you're right. Rollins, Fin - let's get it rolling. I wanna be there, too." She grabbed her phone to call Lucy again as she stood up.

**vi**.

Stabler yawned and stretched, luxuriating in the cool sheets. Kathy had let him have the bed to himself - out of sympathy, maybe, over how tired he was. Not surprisingly, he found that a wet dream had taken care of his postponed orgasm. Peeling the sheet from his body, El scratched at his chest and grabbed his cell from the bedside table.

"Shit!"

He leapt from the bed as he realized the time, grabbing his towel from the floor to scrub come from his pelvis. Unknowingly, he'd slept most of the day away, when he had other work to do on his current assignment.

Swearing his way through getting dressed, he swiped up his cell again. He texted Liv: **I MISS YOU TOO** , and headed for his car.

**vii**.

Liv's phone went off, causing her to drop her gaze from their target. She smiled at Elliot's message, making Detective Rollins chuckle.

"I know what a smile like that means."

"Do you?" her Lieutenant grinned. "I'm not always sure I even know what that smile means, myself."

"Got it that bad, huh?" Rollins sipped her coffee, watching the street corner. "So what's the problem?"

Olivia let a long silence hang before responding. "He's uh . . . he's married."

It was enough to get Amanda to turn her head. Not so much the statement, but who she was talking to. She couldn't imagine many people who would peg her Lieutenant as the type.

"Married?" she frowned. "That's rough. I assume not happily?"

Liv shrugged. "I'm not sure. Not anymore, anyway. There was a time, when he was, but . . . that was," she sighed, "a long time ago." She scanned the corner they were watching, pushing herself to focus. But it felt really good to talk about it.

Intrigued, Rollins mulled over if it could be someone they mutually knew. It didn't feel right, to push, knowing that Liv was rarely forthcoming even of her own volition.

Eventually, Amanda spoke again: "Well. Life's too short t'wait around too long. My opinion, is all."

It was Liv's turn to chuckle, over how long ago that particular ship had probably sailed. "You know -"

"There's our guy," Rollins interrupted, sitting up straighter.

 _My old partner_ , the words never made it out of Olivia's mouth. She dropped her coffee into the cup holder. "Let's move." They started out of the car as Liv spoke into her wrist radio. "Fin, we're on the move."

At the corner bodega, a man who looked to be in his mid-to-late 20s was putting on an apron. Bruce Hewitt had been perfecting his act for weeks - picking his victims from the bodega customers. He'd hand out his number, ask the women to come back at close and meet him, to go out for drinks. Those drinks never came, of course - instead, Hewitt would drag the women into the first quiet alley and overpower them.

Liv and Rollins approached the bodega casually, splitting up to take separate sides. They watched Hewitt, chatting up his next target. She was a redhead, smiling brightly as he made smalltalk. Amanda flipped through a magazine.

"He's doing his thing, Fin," Liv said quietly, turning away from Hewitt as she lifted her wrist.

"Copy, Liv. Ready when you say the word," Fin came back.

Rollins nodded her chin toward Hewitt as she caught Liv's eye. He was writing on the girl's hand with a pen, and grinning. They waited for the woman to walk away before Rollins approached with Liv watching.

"Mr. Hewitt?" she flashed her badge. "May we have a word?"

Bruce threw the broom he had picked up, and then fled, past Amanda towards Olivia, who made an unsuccessful attempt to grab his shirt before he barrelled past. Liv wheeled and began pursuit as she heard Rollins radioing Fin.

Bruce Hewitt was not a small man, he'd ran track in high school, and put on speed easily. As soon as he could, he veered off into one of 'his'

alleys with Liv close behind.

"Give it up Hewitt!" she shouted as she rounded the same corner. "There's nowhere to go!"

He brought up against the side of a dumpster, grabbed the corner , vaulting himself around to the other side, reaching, reaching . . .

Olivia was stepping down the alley with her gun drawn. "C'mon, Hewitt! We figured out your game. If you come quietly, we can talk! We can . . . sort everything out," she tried.

Bruce stood up. "There's nothing to sort out." He levelled a handgun at Olivia. "Drop your gun."

Liv stopped walking.

**viii**.

The two eyed each other over the trash and puddle-filled alley. Liv was motionless as Hewitt came closer.

"Okay," Liv replied, lowering her voice. "You're the boss, Hewitt. Just take it easy." She wondered if Fin and Amanda had lost her in the chase. She lowered her gun. "Can we just talk?"

"Talk about what?" he scoffed. "Toss your gun this way."

"My name is Olivia -"

"Your gun!"

"Okay, okay." She skidded the gun as far as she could, watched Hewitt pick it up as she raised her other hand. "Tell me what you want."

He made it where she was standing, still aiming at her. "What I want, is for you to shut the hell up so I can think!"

As she fell silent, her breathing heavy, they heard another set of footsteps come into the alley. Liv waited, with relief, to hear Amanda or Fin's voice. Hopefully both.

Then Hewitt snatched Liv by the shoulder, spun her body into his. Olivia tensed as he turned her to face the entrance to the alley.

"Gotta tell ya, Hewitt - she doesn't respond very well to bein' told to shut up. Trust me - I know."

Olivia didn't know how, but it was Elliot she found herself gaping at. He was levelling a gun at Bruce Hewitt - who was now pointing _his_ gun to Liv's temple.


	6. Chapter 6

**Rating: M for language, violence**

**Spoilers: The Lewis arc, vaguely, but not really anything specific beyond that.**

**Talisman: VI**

_Take the light, and darken everything around me/Call the clowns, and listen closely, I'm lost without you_ \- from Rise Above This by Seether

"Stop! Now!" Hewitt yelled to Stabler. "Or I'll shoot her! I will!"

Olivia felt her captor's grip tense as Elliot continued to advance down the alley. Her eyes flitted back and forth between the two men.

"You're not gonna do that, Hewitt," El told him calmly. "No need to add to all the trouble you're in."

Hewitt sneered with impatience. "Unless you wanna find out what her brains look like, you better stop walking. Now."

Liv's eyes met El's as he came to a stop.

"Who the hell are you?" Hewiit asked breathlessly. "No way you followed her that fast."

"He's my partner," Liv lied, maintaining Elliot's upper hand.

"Was I asking you?" Bruce yanked on Liv's hair with his non-gun hand. She gasped. "Bitch?!"

El's eyes flashed from fire to ice at the sight. "Hewitt, I swear to God -"

"Oh - you don't wanna see her hurt? Then I would advise you to _lower your fucking gun!_ " he hissed.

Elliot did as told, never taking his eyes from the man. "Alright. Tell me what it is you want."

"I'm leaving - with her," Bruce tipped his head toward Liv, "and you're gonna let me. Or," he shrugged, "she dies. Simple."

El squinted - a habit he could never quite shake, when forced to think on the spot. "What do you need her for? Why not just let her go? Gotta be easier than her slowin' ya down."

Hewitt grinned. "Well . . . she's really all I've got going for me, right now, wouldn'tcha say? Gives you, and the other cops, a pretty good reason not to shoot me." The man leered, running the gun down over Olivia's chest. "Emphasis on the _pretty_."

El's hands twitched and he felt bile rise in his throat. As far as he was concerned, Hewitt was a dead man.

At the sound of sirens, Hewitt started backing up, further into the alley. "We're going," he called. "If I even sense you following us, she's dead."

El watched them retreating, breathing harshly, never taking his eyes off Liv. Hewitt disappeared through a door in one of the buildings at the end of the alley, pushing Olivia ahead of him with the gun pressed to her back.

Elliot watched the door slam shut, and counted to ten. Then he followed them.

**ii.**

Liv could say with certainty that it was the first time at gunpoint in which her mind wasn't entirely focused on survival. Part of it was focused on wondering how Elliot had shown up where he did - and when he did.

"Keep moving!" Hewitt barked, and shoved the gun into her back harder.

"Look, you should stop making this harder on yourself, Bruce," she said, trying to see her way through the dim. "I mean, we're going down, not up - where do you expect to go?"

"I know these alleys and basements like the back of my hand. Just keep movin'." There was a noise, then, and he pulled Liv into a narrow, empty space, his hand over her mouth. He cocked his head, listening. "Your son of a bitch partner, I imagine," Hewitt whispered. "Looking to get you both killed."

Olivia shut her eyes and prayed that wasn't actually the case. She could hear El now, getting closer; feeling his way through the dark as best he could. They stood, frozen, as Elliot passed within feet and kept creeping forward. Once he judged that Elliot had gone far enough, Hewitt pushed Liv across the shadowy hall - where a door seemed to appear, as if out of nowhere. He pushed Liv inside and shut the door behind them quietly.

The room was large, had probably once been used for storage. It was all concrete, and empty, save for a chair and a dirty single cot.

"This where you like to take your dates?" she asked him, her face a mask of disgust.

"Only the ones I really like," he smirked. Liv merely held his gaze stonily.

Outside the room they'd ducked into, Elliot froze at the sound of muffled voices. His eyes scanned and cursed the dim light. He was starting to think Kathy was right: he was too old for cops and robbers anymore. All he wanted was to get Liv out of there, send Hewitt to a dark hole with bars on it, and sleep.

He caught the shimmer of something metal, up the wall. It turned out to be a grate, that he could just reach on tip-toe. El could see Liv, with Hewitt near the back of the room. Their lips were moving, but he couldn't make out what they were saying.

The spaces between the rungs of the grate weren't large enough for Elliot to take his shot, otherwise Hewitt would already be dead. He wondered, vaguely, where Liv's squad was.

**iii.**

"Is this the plan, Bruce? Stay here, like sitting ducks, or . . ." Liv spoke again, uncomfortable with Hewitt's long silences.

"If you're in such a rush, I can put you out of your misery now."

Liv sighed as Hewitt focused on listening for the sound of more footsteps or sirens. He heard nothing. Outside, next to the door, Elliot was motionless, barely breathing.

"I think the coast might be clear," Hewitt said. "We need to go deeper. Let's move." He pushed Olivia ahead of him again. "Open the door."

She did as told. Hewitt looked, making sure he couldn't see anyone in the doorway. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved Olivia through the space.

Before she could take a second step forward, she felt a warm hand encircle her wrist and pull her firmly to the side. Then, the narrow, dim space lit up with sudden gunfire. Liv found herself swimming toward concrete in slow motion, wondering if she was dead. Her mind filled with the image of Elliot holding Noah, and how much she had wanted to see that again.

Then . . . then it was like going to sleep, and everything was silence.

**iv.**

Elliot had never been so grateful to hear the sound of other cops, and to see flashlights flood the dark. Until he saw Olivia on the ground. And blood. He dropped over her, his heart so far up his throat, he was afraid to speak.

"Liv?! Liv! Jesus - can you hear me? Olivia!"

"Hands in the air! Now!"

El looked up to see a long-haired blonde, pointing her gun at him. Dazed, he raised his hands. "Please! Call a bus!" he shouted.

Rollins had already started forward with cuffs, but hesitated. Behind her, Fin radioed for the ambulance.

"Stabler?!" Fin squinted in disbelief. "What the hell?"

"Fin! Thank God!"

"You know this guy?" Rollins asked.

"Used to," Fin replied. "He was Benson's partner for 12 years."

"Fin - it was so dark, and Hewitt had a gun on her . . . I pulled her, I think we both fired . . . fuck."

Fin was on the ground then, as El tried to explain. "Where's she bleedin' from? Rollins - shine your flashlight over here!"

Amanda did as told, her eyes trained on where Elliot was holding Liv's hand and rubbing it, almost possessively.

"Detectives," one of the backup officers interrupted, "your perp is dead."

Elliot was cold with panic, too far gone to feel any sense of satisfaction that Hewitt had gone down. Liv felt cold to the touch, and it was all he could do not to throw up on the concrete floor. Had he shot her? Had Hewitt? He let Fin pull him to his feet when the paramedics arrived, all the noise and commotion swelling, then fading, like radio stations under a passing dial.

El's eyes were riveted to Olivia's face, waiting . . . waiting for her eyes to open again.

**v.**

After sleeping most of the day away, Elliot was convinced that he'd woken up inside a nightmare. As much as hearing Liv say it had felt like coming home, he wasn't her partner anymore. He wasn't even a cop, anymore - not as far as the state of New York was concerned, anyway. He was an outsider. He hung back, watching Fin, the blonde, another tall SVU detective with a heavy Brooklyn accent, and a dark-haired ADA confer over Olivia's condition. El was jealous of their comraderie. He missed being a part of something larger.

He resisted the urge to scream, squirming in the waiting room chair he was rooted to - his thoughts a run-on mix of prayer, profanity, and questions. It was an eternity before Fin came over to put him out of his misery.

"How's Liv?" El asked, looking up at his old colleague.

"In surgery," Fin told him. "Bullet lodged in her lung. They're doin' what they can."

"Where's Noah?"

Fin raised an eyebrow and paused. He took a seat next to El. "Amanda'll take care'a that . . . she has a daughter that Noah plays with." Fin let go a long breath. "What were you doin' there, Stabler? I gotta be too young to be seein' ghosts."

"Hewitt was my assignment," El said, his chuckle sounding so tired.

"Assigment?" Fin echoed. "P. I. work?"

"Yeah."

"People don't normally hire a P. I. for a rapist."

"I wasn't casing him for rape," Elliot said. "I was . . . hired because the bodega owner wanted to prove Hewitt had been closing up shop early, skipping out on his shifts."

Fin half-rolled his eyes. "Wow. Bruce is just an all-around winnin' guy, huh?"

Elliot snorted and leaned back until he could put his head against the wall.

"Our D. A. - that's Barba - he wants us to get a statement from you. I told him I'd get it; wanted ta give you some time"

"Thanks. I appreciate that." Fin nodded, got up again, to head back to the squad. "Hey. Fin." The two men looked at each other. "You'll let me know?"

"I will."

The two men had had their issues in the past, but Elliot still trusted the man not to deal him out when it came to Olivia. He watched, as Fin crossed to rejoin the SVU squad. Watched them talking in hushed tones, about Liv, about Hewitt, and likely about him, too. El supposed he'd always be a topic of hushed conversation in the NYPD, for one reason or another.

He watched them interacting, cataloguing information to keep his mind off of his own fear. The tall, sandy-haired one was clearly in love with the blonde - who, by her responding body language, seemed unsure if she was in love with anybody. The ADA, Barba, sported a look that Elliot was all-too-familair with, making El wonder how many men who'd worked with Liv over the years had fallen in love, as well. Had he and Liv been so obvious, he wondered - their faces as easy to read?

And, more imprtantly, was he going to get the chance to look at her like that, ever again?

Elliot turned his eyes to the wall clock, and started counting minutes.

**vi.**

His cell phone roused him from a doze several hours later. The caller ID announced it was Kathy. As he picked up, he looked across the waiting room. Only Fin and the blonde were still there.

"Hey - you weren't here when I got Eli home from soccer, and I couldn't get ahold of you. I was worried," Kathy told him.

"I'm alright," he said quietly.

"How's work?"

"Work . . . got kind of derailed. Turns out my guy was a serial rapist."

"Oh, God!" Kathy groaned.

"Yeah. Well - doesn't matter now. He's dead."

"Dead?! Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. But, look . . . I might not be home for a while."

"Elliot?" Kathy's tone was concern, and suspicion.

"I'm at Mercy," he told her. "Liv . . . Olivia was shot. She's still in the O. R."

There was an interminably long silence on Kathy's end, while he waited to see if she would be able to extend him the same compassion he had been trying to extend her.

"I'm so sorry," her voice came at last. It trembled as she said, "I understand. Let me know . . . if you need anything."

"Thanks, Kathy." He noticed Fin approaching, and his stomach lurched. "I gotta go."

Elliot stood up.

"She's outta surgery," Fin said with a half-smile. "She lost a lotta blood, though - so she's not outta the woods, technically."

"Can I see her?"

"She's not awake yet, but yeah. I'll take you to her. C'mon."

For a man who had spent his own fair share in them, and then some, Elliot hated hospitals. Sterility has a distinct smell, and it sticks to everything, underneath the over-bright lights. The racket created by medical equipment can never quite bounce off the walls and floor, and so mutes, along with the whisper of nurses footsteps, as they go in and out like phantoms.

The blonde detective was on her way out as Fin pointed El to the doorway. "Stabler, this is Amanda Rollins. Rollins - Elliot Stabler."

She shook his hand. "Pleasure," she drawled. "Sorry, 'bout earlier."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just grateful that you showed up when you did."

"C'mon, Rollins," Fin said, "we got a pile'a paperwork to start."

El watched them go, then turned to the doorway, stalling. They had never really had to do this - with her being the one in the bed, because he had always made it a point to put himself in harm's way before her. He had seen it as another part of their partnership, to take bullets, punches, or anything that came between them. Olivia would have just called it ridiculous chauvinism, but it had kept her mostly safe, for 12 years.

But not this time.

He stepped inside.

**vii.**

She was so pale.

It was his first thought. She wasn't intubated, but it made for no shortage of tubes and machines, beeping away steadily. The gamut of his emotions staggered him. Below the surface of exhaustion, there was guilt, grief, denial, and worse - regret.

El pulled up a chair and cleared his throat softly. He hesitated, and glanced back to the doorway, before he took Liv's hand in both of his. He said a short prayer, and wondered why talking was so much harder when it was one-sided.

"I'm here, Liv," he told her. "I . . . I'm so sorry. I was trying so hard to keep you safe. Guess I'm not as cut out for all this, anymore, as I thought, huh?"

Elliot wanted so much to see her dark eyes that the ache seemed to take up the room. "I just . . . God, I wish we hadn't fought. There are so many things I want to say, and ask."

It occurred to him, suddenly, that this was really the first time he had ever held Liv's hand - when they weren't undercover - instead of just brushing against it at the desk, or in the car. He balked at the realization, and the depth of his own ridiculous cowardice.

There he found himself a cliche - a man in love, willing to bargain all his chips at the door of Another Chance. Elliot let himself drift away, lulled by the rise and fall of Liv's breathing, as his tired mind insisted on trotting out a dozen years worth of memories.

When a hand on his shoulder woke him, bright morning light was burning through the frosted hospital panes. El sat up from where he'd slept, bent at the waist in the chair, with his face buried in the bed next to Liv's hand. His back screamed in agony.

"Time is it?" he asked sheepishly.

"Little after seven," Rollins told him. She passed him a cup of coffee. "It's just black. Figured that'd be safest, til I find out how you like it."

"Thanks." He took the coffee, glanced at Liv. "She's still not awake."

"Yeah. Doc said they're keepin' her under a while, just to be safe." The detective pulled a second chair alongside El's and sat. "But she's doin' well. She's a stubborn one, this gal."

Elliot snorted. "You don't know the half of it."

"You two were partners a long time."

"Yeah. A long . . . long time," he nodded vacantly.

"Fin told me how you ended up in the alley. Good fortune in strange circumstances."

He met Amanda's gaze. "Did CSU go down there? Did they . . . did it turn out I shot her?"

"Hewitt shot her. You two fired within milliseconds of each other," Rollins explained. "He got Liv in the side, and you got him in the head." She watched the man relax, and take a deep breath.

"How's Noah doing?" he asked her.

"Good, for now. He and Jesse keep each other busy."

"Your daughter," El remembered. "How old is she?"

" 'Bout a year and a half," Amanda smiled. "You got kids?"

Elliot chuckled. "Yeah. Five of 'em."

"Five?" she exclaimed, "Lord! How did you work in sex crimes so long?"

"I don't know anymore, sometimes," he admitted. "Their mother carried more than her share. I guess I . . . didn't know how to stop, after a while. The job was everything I knew."

Rollins looked at the wedding band on Elliot's finger, and said nothing.

"They're all grown up now, and gone - save for my youngest. He's ten."

"Mmm - back home in Georgia, we call that a 'Change of Life Baby.'"

El smiled softly. And why not? Her version certainly sounded better than his would. "Georgia," he remarked. "How'd you end up here?"

"That's . . . a story," Rollins said.

He settled back in the chair. "Well. I've got time. Tell me."

So she did.

**viii.**

Elliot was in the middle of a slow, quiet pace around the room the next day when a nurse came in to tend to Liv. The nurse pulled the hanging curtain around the bed, so El leaned against the wall, arms crossed, to wait.

Lost in his own thoughts, he rolled his head to the side - and realized there was a gap where he could see inside the curtain. His first reaction was to blush furiously, not wanting to seem indelicate. On second glance, he saw that there wasn't anything much being revealed. The nurse was changing the leads for the heart monitor, but most of Liv's chest was still swathed in surgical dressings.

What he could see of her shoulders was enough to set his heart racing. He swallowed hard when he noticed scars there, in the shape of . . . _keys, maybe?_ he thought.

_Lewis_. Elliot balled his fists and felt his blood begin to rush. _Jesus, Liv, what did he do to you?_ Tears stung at his eyes. _I woulda done better than just a shot to the head_.

El nodded to the nurse once they finished, sliding the curtain open again. He settled back into the bedside chair that was starting to feel like an extension of his ass. He hadn't eaten, or showered, or even left the room. He had called Eli, to assure him he would be home as soon as he could. Soon, Fin would be trying to get him to leave, at least long enough to give his statement, and they would argue when Elliot tried to explain he wouldn't be going anywhere until Olivia was conscious again.

The pitter-patter of little shoes brought Elliot's attention back to the doorway.

"El!" Noah lit up when he saw Elliot and ran to the chair. El helped him scramble into his lap. As the boy turned arond, he pointed to the bed. "Mama!"

"Yeah, buddy. She's sleepin' right now."

Noah bit his lip. " 'Kay."

Rollins came behind, with Jesse in an umbrella stroller. "Mornin'," she smiled. She dropped a warm, greasy bag into his hands. "You need'ta eat. And since Liv can't make you, you're stuck with me for now."

Elliot chuckled and pulled a breakfast sandwich from the sac, unwrapping it while Noah watched. "Did you make this?" he teased.

"No!" the boy shook his head vehemently.

"Mmm - s'good!" El said, his mouth full. "You wanna bite?" Noah nodded, and El held the sandwich in front of the boy's face so he could chomp down.

"Here - coffee," Amanda announced, and handed El a cup to go with the food.

"Thanks," he said, humbled by her care after having only just met the day before. "Any news?"

"Doctor said Liv is holdin' steady. They'll likely dial back the sedatives soon." Amanda smiled warmly, knowing he was so anxiously awaiting just that.

"That's a relief," he sighed, watching as Noah ate another bite of his breakfast. The tiny blonde in the stroller gurgled and reached for Elliot and Noah. "Hi, Jesse," El acknowledged.

"Jesse is my friend," Noah said proudly.

"So I hear." Elliot ruffled the boy's hair.

"Listen," Rollins said, "would it be alright if you watched Noah for a bit? I promised my sister I'd bring Jesse to do lunch today."

"Yeah. I would be fine with that." Elliot's smile was enormous.

"What do you think, Noah?" Amanda crouched to the boy's level. "You wanna stay here a while, with Elliot and your mama?"

"Yes, please," he said shyly.

"It's settled then." Amanda stood up, searching a pocket for one of her cards. "You can call me, or text, if anything changes - or, if you need a wrangler," she grinned.

El chuckled. "Enjoy your lunch, Amanda."

When there was no more food to keep the boy occupied, he turned in El's lap to look at the man. "When's Mama gonna be awake?"

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "Soon, I hope." The boy faced forward again, and leaned back until he was layng against Elliot's chest. "How about, while we wait, I tell you a story?"

"Okay."

Elliot looked down at the top of Noah's head, then across to Liv. "Well . . . once upon a time, I was a police officer, like your mom . . . "

"You were?"

"Sure was. And then, one day, my boss told me . . . your mom was coming to work with me -"

"Wait, wait," Noah said, his voice dead serious. He squirmed around until he could see El's face again. "Is this a _real_ story?"

He looked into the little boy's eyes. "As real as real can be," he confessed.

Satisfied, the boy turned towards the bed again. "Okay. Keep going."

"The first day your mom came to work with me and I met her, I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the whole world. . . ."


	7. Chapter 7

**Spoilers: The Lewis arc, vaguely.**

**Rating: Strong M – please heed the warning**

**Talisman: VII**

_I had entered into a marriage_

_In the summer of my twenty-first year_

_… No more a rake and no more a bachelor_

_I was wedded and it whetted my thirst_

_Until her womb started spilling out babies_

_Only then did I reckon my curse_ – The Rake's Song, The Decemberists

While Elliot had slept and then woke to his worst nightmare, Olivia woke to find herself momentarily curious if she had made it to heaven.

She lay there, her eyes coming to focus on the dazzling white ceiling. She tried taking inventory – curling her toes, trying to move her arms, enjoying the sensation of stiff muscles stretching, of blood rushing. Enjoying even the tender ache that was her entire chest.

When she finally turned her head on the pillow, what she saw stopped up her breath. Noah and Elliot were both asleep, together in the chair alongside the bed. Liv's son had his arm slung around El's neck, and his head pillowed on the man's shoulder, as if they had known each other their entire lives. She watched the rise and fall of Elliott's chest, lifting the boy in time with its rhythm.

Not her chest, nor the steady noise of the IV and heart monitors had convinced her she was back in the world. But the fire of awe, love and gratitude that ignited, throbbing wildly, meant that she hadn't died, after all.

As badly as she wanted to hug Noah, and hear Elliott's voice, Olivia didn't make a sound. Certain moments demand to be committed to memory. But, as is the case with almost all toddlers, the more you want them to stay asleep, the sooner they'll awaken. Noah stirred in El's arms, trying to turn over, which in turn caused El to rise to the surface, too. The boy succeeded first – facing forward and yawning. At last, his gaze fell to the bed.

"Mama?" his voice cautious. Then he saw her blink, try to smile. "Mama!" He shouted, and bounced in El's lap. Noah picked up one of the man's hands and tugging on it with excitement. "El, she's up! Mama is awake!"

Elliot lifted from the chair then, so quickly that Noah was nearly toppled to the floor. Caught, at the last second by the armpits, he was hoisted up to El's hip as the two boys peered down into Liv's excited face.

"Liv!" El said, voice thick with sleep and emotion. "Thank God!"

"Hi Mama!" Noah said, his arms reaching for her.

"Easy, bud." Elliot helped the boy lean down to place a loud kiss on his mother's cheek. "Liv," he reached out a hand, caressing her forehead gently, "how're you feeling?"

"Alive," she answered, "and a bit tender."

"You want me to call the nurse?"

"I'm okay," Liv said, making him laugh at her unshakeable stubbornness. "What happened?"

Elliot opened his mouth to answer, but was cut short by Noah. "You were asleep a long time, Mama. El told me stories."

"I missed you, my sweet boy."

"He said you're the prettiest person he worked with in the whole world!"

Liv looked to Elliot. "Did he?" She raised an eyebrow, could almost swear that he was blushing.

He wished that he had remembered that there were no secrets with toddlers, and no metaphors. "I –"

"Liv?!"

The three of them looked to the doorway.

**ii.**

Rollins was back with Jesse. She hurried to the bed, smiling brightly. "How're you feelin'? That was some scare you gave us!"

"I'm okay, Rollins. You been holding down the fort?"

"Well, Fin more than me, but we're getting' by." Amanda looked across to Elliot. "I guess this means you get to go home for a shower now, huh?"

Olivia looked to El curiously, but said nothing. "Thank you, Amanda, for taking care of Noah."

"Thank _you_ ," Rollins chuckled, "for bein' bulletproof." She looked at Noah. "C'mon, little man. Let's get you home for dinner."

"What about Mama?" he pouted.

"I'll bring you to see her again, tomorrow," she assured him.

"And El?"

Elliot set Noah on his feet and looked at him. "I'll be here, too. Promise."

They watched Rollins leave with the kids in tow, and for a few minutes said nothing. He drew the chair up to the bed and sat again.

It was Liv who finally broke the silence: "You need a shave, Stabler."

He scrubbed his hand across the shadow of a beard he was sporting and smiled. "Yeah? Not a fan of the rugged look?"

She stretched out a hand to scratch the growth for herself. "You look tired, not rugged," she smirked, pushing El's cheek playfully.

"Good to see getting shot didn't hurt your sense of humor."

Slowly, her smile faded. "What happened, Elliot?"

He took a deep breath. "You were in the basement with Hewitt. The two of you came out of this room . . . it was just so damn dark, Liv. I tried to pull you far enough to the side to keep you out of the way, but . . ." he sighed, shrugged, "CSU says Hewitt and I shot pretty much at the same time. He got you. They had to remove the bullet from your lung."

"And Hewitt?"

"He's dead," Elliot told her. "I shot him in the head."

Olivia let out a breath, her head falling to the pillow. "Elliot . . . what were you even doing there?"

"I was hired to investigate Hewitt."

"For rape?"

"No – for being a shitty employee," El said, "I had no idea SVU was workin' him." He frowned and touched her hand hesitantly. "Liv. I'm so sorry. I just . . . wanted you to be safe."

"I might be dead if you hadn't been there. You have nothing to apologize for."

Elliot bit his lip. "You scared the piss outta me. Thought I was the one who's supposed to get hurt."

"Like I told you, partner – things change."

He ached to kiss her. _But a lot of things stay the same_ , he thought.

**iii**.

Elliot returned home to a house that was just as quiet as he had left it, two days prior. Kathy had texted him to let him know she was at a parent-teacher meeting for Eli, who was at a friend's house for dinner.

Running on nothing but fumes and muscle memory, he managed to shower, and then face-plant into the bed. Which is where he stayed, until after the sun had gone down. He found clean jeans and a white t-shirt, over which he pulled on the grey hoodie that Liv once shared with him. It was thread-bare in places, having seen better days, but Elliot would never consider throwing it out.

Eli was back home, doing homework on the bed in his room. Elliot stopped to look in on him. "Hey Champ. How was supper at Eric's?"

"Good. When did you get home?"

"Few hours ago."

"Is your friend better?" Eli asked.

His father marvelled at how different Eli was from his brother, Richard. The sandy-haired boy didn't have a hint of a temper, and was born with a wisdom far beyond his few years. "Better, yeah," El answered.

Downstairs, he wandered into the kitchen, stomach growling, Cracking open a Pepsi, he rummaged in the fridge until a container of leftover spaghetti manifested itself. By the time the microwave chimed, Elliot was feeling almost back to whatever passed for normal. He turned with his spaghetti to the kitchen island and cold soda. And that's where he stopped short.

On the island counter was a legal-size envelope with a post-it note stuck to it. The note read, 'Elliott's Copy.' His swallow of Pepsi burned a harsh path down his throat.

"How is Olivia?"

Elliot turned his head to discover Kathy in the kitchen doorway. When he didn't answer her question, she joined him at the island. She glanced down at the envelope, then back up to his face.

"Come on, Elliot. Relax." Kathy was calm. Almost smiling. "I don't want to fight with you." She shrugged. "Deep down . . . we both know this is what we want. And need.

"You said it yourself: we deserve to be happy. Our marriage has been a lonely place . . . for a long time. I want us both to have more, while there's still time. This is not like the last time, Elliot. This –" Kathy motioned a hand between them, "is dead and buried."

When he finally spoke, El's voice was hoarse with grief, exhaustion, relief and gratitude. "I won't fight it. But I am sorry, Kathy. I am. I hope . . . that you don't find yourself lonely, ever again."

"Thank you, for being a good father, and a good man. Is Olivia okay?"

"She's awake," he sniffed, "outta the woods."

Kathy nodded. "Good. Tell her you love her, Elliot." She chuckled at his wide eyes, like he was a child caught with his hand down his pants. "Don't look so shocked," she chided, "I'm not completely oblivious. You left me for Olivia, years ago. I've just been too selfish to let you go."

He opened his mouth, to tell her he had never been unfaithful, but she held up a hand. "You didn't sleep with her – I know. You're both too righteous for that. I think that almost makes it worse. She makes you happy, Elliot. After all the time the two of you have given to SVU . . . at least let yourselves have each other."

Kathy leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Now eat your leftovers - they're getting cold." She left the kitchen as quietly as she had arrived.

For his part, Elliot stared into his spaghetti for long minutes, seeing if he could sort out how he felt. He noshed lukewarm pasta, washed it down with the soda, marvelling at the story of his own life; its lines drawn so clearly in the sand.

He wondered, was there still time enough to write an epilogue?

The rest of the night found him back on the balcony, where the cold air was familiar, but the dark seemed so changed.

**iv.**

The procession of well wishes and flowers was in full swing by the time El made it back to Mercy General the next morning. Liv had her color back, and was sitting up in bed, which got him smiling before he could help himself.

"Hey – you shaved!" she smiled.

"Yep," he nodded, "showered too. Guess I'm still good for doin' as told." He reached the bed and bent to place a kiss on Liv's forehead. "How're you feeling?"

"Much better. Anxious to get out of here."

El chuckled as he dropped into the bedside chair. "Oh yeah? You're not a boomerang, Benson. They just pulled a bullet outta you."

"I feel fine!"

"Well. Stabler. You clean up good." Rollins approached the bed with her thumbs hooked into the belt loops of her jeans. The kids weren't with her, and Elliot was surprised to realize it disappointed him. "How you doin', Lieutenant?"

"As I am trying to tell everybody: I'm _fine_ ," Liv said firmly.

"Mmm," Amanda acknowledged, biting her lip to keep from chuckling.

Liv rolled her eyes. "How's the squad?"

"Oh, you know - we're all just havin' a party without you . . ." Rollins winked at Elliot. "I mean, Barba ran off with his assistant, Carisi stopped goin'ta church. And Fin and I . . . we renamed the unit the Special Vixen's Unit."

Liv expelled the breath she was holding and tried to relax. "Sorry, Amanda. I just . . . don't take very well to being looked after."

El crossed his arms over his chest. "There's an understatement."

Studying him, Rollins' eyes fell to his hands. His wedding ring was gone from his finger. "Well. Speakin' of the Vixen's Unit - I gotta get back to work. Fin's not half so vixen-like without me."

"Where's Noah?" El asked.

"With Lucy," Amanda told them. "I asked her to bring him here, after she drops Jesse off with Kim this afternoon. That alright?"

"That's fine."

It was Elliot who responded, and both women looked at him with surprise. He cleared his throat and fixed his gaze between his feet.

"I'll see you tonight, Liv." Rollins left them on their own, but it hardly lasted, as the doctor was the next to come into the room.

El got to his feet. "I'll . . . I can wait outside the door –"

"No. Stay," Liv told him. "Please."

"Lieutenant Benson! Looking much better than when we first saw you!" The older man pressed fingers to her wrist, counting off her pulse by his watch. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling tired of that question," Olivia laughed. She shrugged. "I feel . . . fine. Tender, maybe, a little. But otherwise, fine," she insisted. "Any idea when I can get out of here?"

Elliot shook his head in amusement and disbelief.

"Well, sooner than you might think," the doctor said, scribbling notes in the chart. "I'm going to remove your chest dressings today. If you're still improving steadily by tomorrow, we'll have you discharged in the afternoon."

"When will I be able to work?"

El bit his tongue.

"Now, now, Lieutenant," the doctor chuckled, "some rest won't hurt you." He went about taking the bandages off. "Sponge bathing only, for the first couple of days. No exerting yourself, for a while. You can go back to the office in a few weeks, but active duty? Oh, not for at least a couple of months, I'm afraid."

Olivia sighed as the doctor finished, patting her incision dry after cleaning it. "Looks good. Just let your husband take care of you for a while – try and enjoy it." The doctor winked at Elliot.

"He's not –" Liv started.

"I'll look after her, doc," El cut her off and smiled. "Thanks."

**v**.

The day had come and gone much more quickly with Liv awake. Elliot had watched, silently, while Liv spent time with Noah in the afternoon, and then took the boy out for something to eat before he went home to Rollins.

Being around the toddler made El realize how much he missed having little ones around – despite all his daydreaming about Eli being grown.

As the hospital began to drift toward its quietest part of the day, Elliot found himself back in the chair in Olivia's room, dozing on and off in time with the muffled beeps of monitors.

"I miss you," he heard Liv say.

El's eyes opened, but he remained still, wondering if she was talking in her sleep.

She spoke: again: "I miss us. We were so good together. It was easy. Well . . . mostly easy, anyway . . ."

He sat up, turning to her, watching her eyes.

"I miss the long conversations in the car, and knowing how we like our coffee. Going at a Perl in the box until they cracked." Liv rolled her head so her eyes met El's. "Don't get me wrong – being Lieutenant is fine, just in a different way. And I know that otherwise, I wouldn't have the time for Noah that I do.

"But . . . you were my whole life for 12 years, El. I guess I just . . . want something to be easy again."

Elliot stepped to the edge of the bed, never taking his eyes from her. "Liv, I'm so sorry. And I don't just mean for being gone all this time. But . . ." he let out a breath and verbalized his thoughts from the basement: "none of us can play cops and robbers forever. Everything you have, you earned. You have other parts of your life now, that deserve the same time and dedication."

Liv turned her head away, emotional and frustrated, but Elliot brought a hand to her cheek, tipping her face to his again. "Hey. I missed you, too. Missed us. But, if you'll have me . . . I'd like to stay with you, and Noah, for a while, when you go home tomorrow."

She looked at him as if he had just started speaking an alien language. "What would Kathy think?" she asked, burrowing her brows.

Elliot pulled his hand back from her face and held it, the back of his hand facing her. He wiggled his fingers to highlight the lack of his wedding ring. Liv's eyes went wide.

"El . . . no – what did you do?"

"What I should have done the first time, years ago," he said, without hesitation.

Still, she gaped at him, trying to read his face.

"So, what do you say? Think you can put up with me for a while?"

Liv couldn't help, then, to smirk at him. "Well, I did manage it for twelve years, so. . . ."

**vi.**

If it was easy that Liv wanted, then for once, Elliot didn't have to second-guess whether he was giving her the right thing. Other than her grumbling over him helping with things, the first evening home went notably smoothly.

Noah enjoyed having Elliot around the house, and – though she would never admit it – Olivia was tickled watching El be domestic. He fussed over the apartment, making a list of things that needed to be picked up at the store, tidying the things that Liv normally never got around to, and checking on her at regular intervals.

For the first time in maybe years, Liv found her place truly feeling like a home. If only she could curb her natural instinct to respond with fatalism., curb her need to push.

After supper, Elliot played with Noah until he tired out, then got him into bed. The apartment fell into peaceful silence. When he came to her on the couch, she was nodding off from her pain meds. El touched her shoulder gently, rousing her as best he could.

"Liv . . . you should get cleaned up before you go to bed," he smiled. "I can give you a hand, if you want."

That got her eyes open. And her heart pounding. "What? No. I can manage," Liv told him.

He helped her to her feet and watched her sleepy plod to the bathroom, where he had placed a chair from the kitchen for her to sit in. There was also a bowl of hot water, a washcloth and towels on the counter. Vaguely, Liv wondered if Kathy had ever gotten this kind of treatment.

Elliot poured himself a glass of wine – beer was already added to the shopping list – and let himself rest. First ten, then 20 . . . he let thirty minutes pass without hearing a peep from the bathroom, before he got to his feet to investigate.

"Liv? You alright?" Elliot knocked lightly on the door. No words, but he thought he had heard a sniffle. He bit his lip. "Hey – Liv."

He took a deep breath. "I'm coming in, Liv."

He opened the door. Liv was sitting in the chair, in only a pair of underwear, with the unused cloth sitting wet in her hands. Her eyes were cast down, and red-rimmed from her quiet tears. El stepped to her, reaching for a towel from the counter. "Here," he said softly, shaking it open and laying it haphazardly over her breasts. She used one hand to hold it, disinterestedly.

"What's the matter?" he asked, taking the wet cloth and busying himself wringing it out, then running fresh hot water.

"I'm going to be fifty, El."

"Are you bragging?" he deadpanned.

Ignoring him, she looked up. "What am I doing, running around getting shot?" She motioned her free hand toward Noah's bedroom, "And! I've got a kid! God, what is wrong with me?!"

Elliot wetted the cloth from the bowl, then stepped behind her, judging it safer than facing her, for the moment. Gently, he moved her hair aside and wiped the nape of her neck. Then her shoulders, admiring every freckle and beauty mark as he went.

"Liv," he spoke, keeping his voice low, "your career has been amazing. There's nothing wrong with you. It's just that . . ." El sighed, "no good thing lasts forever, y'know?

"We all get there, eventually. It makes you tired, chasing the bad guys, when you know there's just gonna be three more around every corner." He nudged her to lean forward, and when she did, he washed her back, all the way down to her panty line.

"Are you saying I should . . . retire?" Her chest tightened at the thought of a second man asking her to put down her shield.

"No; SVU has been your life. The only person who gets to decide when you're done is you." He moved to the side of the chair and worked on her arms and hands. "All I'm saying is, don't be afraid to redefine your priorities."

Liv's skin was raising goosebumps as it cooled, and also because the feel of his hands on her was so foreign and good. She shivered, closing her eyes. "After Lewis . . ." Liv took a deep breath, "and then when Noah came not my life, I . . . I told myself I was done. That Noah was all I had ever wanted. But I just couldn't walk away. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't . . . let go," she whispered.

Elliot dropped the washcloth in the bowl, and came around to face her. Her eyes were closed. He crouched in front of her. "Olivia," his talisman spilled from his lips, "if any part of that was my fault, for leaving . . . then know that I am sorry. So sorry."

Liv opened her eyes, admiring the angular lines of Elliot's jaw, the concern in his eyes. All his muscles pulled taut, to hold his crouching position. She licked her lips. The air in the room was electric.

"I love you, Elliot." It was out of her mouth before she even comprehended it: her words gone rogue in want of freedom from being held in for so long.

Both of them, their breathing stilled. Then Elliot dropped one knee to the bathroom tile, leaning in, up, kissing her with all the force of their years kept platonic. He kissed her until they started breathing again, tasting her plump lips and the warm silk of her tongue. "I. Love. You, too," he gasped slowly, into her mouth.

As the kiss broke, Liv sunk her teeth into his bottom lip, sending El's desire shooting all the way to the tips of his toes. " _Please_ ," she whispered, and the hand holding the towel to her chest fell away, setting Elliot's heart thundering recklessly.

"Liv," he hesitated, "the doctor said no exerting yourself. I don't wanna hurt you."

"Then don't let me exert myself," she said, matter-of-factly, and smiled, wickedly.

Slowly, El got to his feet. He wet the cloth again, then stood in front of Liv, between her knees. For a long moment, he didn't move – more afraid to fuck up than he had ever been in his life. Then, he tipped her face up with a finger under her chin.

The washcloth swiped slowly, her neck and the hollow of her throat. Then lower, making her eyes close as he wiped over, then under her breasts. She shivered again, and Elliot's cock grew harder, thrumming to the race of his heart. Elliot bent slightly forward, pressing his lips to the spot behind her earlobe, kissing firmly.

"El!" she gasped softly, and Elliot silently praised God at the sound.

He let a hand drop to her breast, warming it with the palm, before his fingers tugged and grazed the nipple that was near to trembling to scratch glass from being pulled so taut.

"Need you in my mouth," El mumbled, and crouched again, warming the opposite breast as his mouth enveloped a dusky nipple.

Liv arched, pushing forward on the chair, the apex of her thighs flooding. Like tectonic plates shifting, it was like feeling her life move, then settle, to allow for the fact of their coming together. He feasted on the second nipple, nibbling, swirling, and her head spun.

El left her just long enough to rinse and wring the cloth, then was back, to lovingly wipe her belly and hips, the outside of her thighs. Kissing her mouth, he slipped his fingers into the edges of her panties, encouraging Liv to lift her ass.

When she was naked on the chair, Elliot looked at her – like a lover does, not a squad partner. There was no miserable marriage, no unspoken rule, no precinct whispers fro hold him back. His eyes were storming with want, with admiration and a sense of relief, at having survived long enough to earn a nearly unattainable privilege. Then, his eyes recognized one of the scars he had noted in the hospital. His look softened.

Reaching out a hand, El touched the scar lightly. "Olivia . . ." his voice was thick with emotion.

"Lewis," Liv whispered. "He . . . tortured me. Abducted me. Threatened to . . . rape me. Drugged me, beat me. She fell silent and met his gaze.

Elliot's fist was urged into his thigh. "God, Liv, I . . . wish I could have –"

"I know," she cut in, pressing her forehead to his. "I wanted you to."

"Forgive me," he grated out, "for not . . ."

"I forgive you," she told him, soothing the stubborn Catholic in him.

Elliot let out a shaky breath. "I love you."

In response, Liv took his hand, spreading her knees open, and drew it to her heat. He barely even brushed her labia, and still, his fingers came back wet. Settling onto both knees, he pushed the chair back a little across the floor. His hands drew her ass forward, then flattened against the insides of her thighs. Her pussy was so open to him, the display felt nearly vulgar. She had never wanted any man this much.

**vii**.

_Holy God_ , El thought, seeing her sex glisten with moisture. He knelt forward, and drew his tongue from her entrance, all the way to the hood of her clit, twitching under his mouth. El let the taste of her roll over his taste buds, and growled with a bliss he hadn't felt in years.

He repeated the motion, and heard Liv whimper as her hands fell to his head, fingers digging. As Elliot sucked her clit in earnest, he reached with one hand to free his strangled cock from his jeans. She tried, desperately, to maintain some semblance of control, as her breathing became rapid and her hips trembled, threatening to buck.

Elliot was a thorough man, and his face shone with desire, with her juices as he devoured every crevice of her folds.

"Jesus, Elliot," Liv moaned, letting her pussy ride his face. "Unghhh . . . _Jesus_!"

When he finally withdrew, it was so he could rub his thumb over her clit, while slipping one, then two fingers into her eager hole.

"Fuck!" she bit out, and his thumb flew from her clit to her lips.

"Shh," he soothed, "don't wake Noah – we might die," he chuckled. El watched her, heavy-lidded as her mouth pulled his fingers in, sucking on them. It got his other hand back in motion, moving slowly, firmly against her swollen ridges, seeking her G-spot.

Liv whimpered on his fingers, her hips trembling again. She was wet enough to hear his fucking her; her clit was a white heat under his thumb. Plucking his fingers from her mouth, El leaned in, close enough to kiss her.

"Liv," he husked out, "Liv . . . come for me." His tongue flicked out, tracing her bottom lip. His cock twitched. "Come on my fingers, Olivia."

His voice grunting her name brought her all the way home, clenching, gasping, dripping. He held her steady in the chair, careful of her incision, as she finished quaking and opened her eyes.

" _Elliot_ ," she said breathlessly, moved by the look of satisfaction on his face. She wet her lips with her tongue and sat up straighter as she admired his erection. Straining and neglected, it was twitching, too – his precum threatening to drip. Liv reached for him. "Let me-"

But Elliot drew back as if burned.

**viii**.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he said softly. "I just don't want you overdoing it. Doctor's orders," El smiled sheepishly.

"Elliot!" Olivia was incredulous.

"I'm serious."

She pouted. Glanced down to his cock again. Then had an idea and raised an eyebrow. "Okay . . . then you do it."

"What?"

Liv grinned. "Do it – and let me watch," she told him.

He didn't move.

"C'mon, Stabler," she teased, "no need to pretend like it'd be the first time you ever got off thinking of me."

She had a point.

He undid his belt and pushed his jeans and underwear down below his ass. El stripped off his t-shirt, then wrapped a hand around himself.

"Are you _blushing_ , Detective Stabler?" she smirked.

Instead of answering he started stroking his cock. Instinctually, his eyes closed. His head fell back, and he shuddered.

Olivia leaned forward in the chair, sliding her hand over his well-defined pecs and belly. "I can't wait to fuck you," she breathed. It made him grunt. He stroked faster. "I've waited a lifetime, to feel you come inside me."

El's eyes flew open. "Oh God," he groaned at the thought. He felt her hand drift, slowly, past the root of him, and then softly fondle his balls, tingling with the need to empty.

"Oh. Ohhh. Liv," he bit out. He was only able to manage monosyllables, so he chose his favorite one: "Liv . . . Liv . . . Liv . . ."

Then he was coming, hot sprays of come hit his chest and erupted down over his fingers. When he opened his eyes, her own dark ones were sparkling at him. It made him feel proud, wild.

She touched a finger to the mess on his hand, then drew it to her mouth and sucked. She let out a happy sigh.

"I'm fifty-one y'know," he panted, "try not to kill me before you get a chance to enjoy me, huh?"


	8. Interlude

**Talisman: Interlude**

_What if this goes south, what if I mess you up_

_You say what if I break your heart in two - then what?_

_Well I hear you girl, I feel you girl - but not so fast._

_Before you make your mind up I gotta ask:_

_What if I was made for you and you were made for me?_

_What if this is it, what if it's meant to be?_

_What if I ain't one of them fools just playin' some game?_

_What if I just pulled you close, what if I leaned in,_

_And the stars lined up and it's our last first kiss?_

_What if one of these days baby I go and change your name?_

_What if I loved all these what ifs away?_ – What Ifs, Kane Brown

Though medicated, Liv was awake before the sun was finished rising. But this was no empty-bed morning where she would orgasm alone as Elliot's name died on her lips. This morning, the first after her return from the hospital, was the morning Olivia had told herself would never happen.

The morning was warm and calm – more solid than usual. Even the faint ache in her chest couldn't distract from how natural it felt to wake up with Elliot Stabler in her bed. His chest rose and fell in time with the rhythm of Liv's pulse. Liv could feel the pull in her body – it had been there since she'd known him, like the moon pulling the tides. She was just as in love with all his planes and edges as she had always been; time and age had done nothing to tamp her desire to take what she thought of as hers.

But El's face was peaceful – and he was a man who rarely slept well. Liv forced her breathing to calm, even as she acknowledged how wet she already was. How long had it been, since she'd watched a lover sleep? Decades, she decided, as she watched the minutes slip by, and the light change as it slipped over Elliot's skin.

Before long, his trademark icy blues fluttered open, his face breaking into a sleepy grin as they found her. "How're you feelin'?"

"Happy," she answered without hesitation. "What about you?"

"I feel . . ." El took a deep breath, "peaceful. Is a guy allowed to say that, after filling out divorce papers just a day ago?"

Liv stiffened, her brow creasing. "Listen, El, if you need more time -"

But he shushed her, shifting so he was laying next to her, propped on his elbow. "I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. Trust me, I've had six years to do nothing but think about it." He kissed her, punctuating his words. The kiss was slow, deep, and incredibly tender, carrying with it the weight of years missed, of love held in secret places.

El rolled further, and his already-eager erection pushed into Liv's leg. She moaned into his mouth and pulled him down onto her.

It was then that Liv's bedroom door creaked open, and Noah's shy, peeking face appeared. When he saw they were both awake, he bounded to the bed with a smile. "Morning, Mama!" he crowed, crawling over the foot of the bed.

"Good morning, sweet boy," Liv chuckled, as Elliot pulled the blankets up, instinctively tucking his hips to protect his groin from the jumping toddler.

"Do you wanna make breakfast?" Noah asked, looking at El with something like awe.

Olivia was ceaselessly amused, and touched, by Noah's constant want for Elliot's attention. "Sure – we can probably manage breakfast," El smiled. "Can you just give your mom and me a couple of minutes? I'll be right there."

Noah went without protest, and the two adults fell back against the pillows. "Sorry," Liv giggled.

"Just let me get him to daycare," Elliot rumbled, and kissed her again. "We'll pick up where we left off."

ii.

Olivia was, understandably, back to sleep by the time El actually returned from dropping Noah off. He let her rest, and took pleasure in domestic things that he thought he'd long ago lost the ability to – tidying toys, making Noah's bed, cleaning up the kitchen, folding clean laundry. Eventually, he made it around to brewing coffee and making Liv some breakfast.

He pushed the bedroom door open with the Peppa pig tray he'd found – the _only_ tray, it seemed, in the entire place – and stopped short as his breath seemed to vanish from his lungs. How close had he come, to blowing every chance to see her this way?

For over a decade, this was the line they kept promising themselves they'd never cross. Looking at her like this – with no marriage, no precinct or squad rumors, no confessional booth between them, cautioning or damning them – felt illicit. Olivia was asleep on her back, with one arm thrown over her head on the pillow. A tank top and underwear – what he'd put her to bed in – were all she was wearing, with the blankets askew across her midriff.

It had been 1998 when Liv had walked into the 1-6 and changed his life. Now he was 51, and somehow, she was still setting his heart racing in a way he could never put to words. Every change in her body, every new and familiar line on her face, felt like a home they had built together. He could only hope she felt the same.

El approached the side of the bed and carefully put down the tray, getting onto the mattress next to her. "Morning, sunshine," he said gently, drawing a finger along the line of Liv's jaw.

She stirred, then turned her head and fixed him with her big brown eyes. Then she beamed at him. "Hey. Sorry. I must'a fell back to sleep."

"You can have all the rest you want," he shrugged. " But you might want to consider some breakfast first."

That got her interest, and she sat up some, letting El reach behind her to prop pillows. "You made me breakfast?"

He chuckled, and responded by bringing up a cool, pink segment of grapefruit between his two fingers. Liv reached for it, but he drew back. "Let me," he said softly, and goosebumps broke out over Liv's skin.

Olivia kept her eyes on him as she opened her mouth, taking the grapefruit, mumbling her pleasure as the flesh burst, and the juice splashed, tasting of morning and renewal. She grinned as she swallowed, licked her lips and asked, "What else ya got?"

Half a grapefruit, raisin toast, some cheese – they fed each other, blissful, laughing, as though they had never once missed a morning of doing this. Elliot kissed toast crumbs from her shining lips, fought and teased her over the last piece of fruit, and held her hand while they sipped coffee in bed. Side by side, catching up without having to say more than a few dozen words.

Then Peppa pig was banished to the floor, and Liv's head was pillowed on El's chest. Her hand danced in mischief, down to the button of the jeans he'd dressed in, in order to leave the apartment earlier. "I believe," she said slowly, "that I owe you a debt of gratitude." Smirking, she popped the button and lowered the zipper.

"For breakfast?" he deadpanned, his breathing already beginning to shallow.

"How about for saving my life?" she countered, and slid her hand into his briefs, her palm soft and teasing against his hot pelvis, the scratch of his pubic hair.

He sobered momentarily, even as his hips arched off the mattress. "Are you sure you're not tired? How's your chest?"

"Elliot."

No more protesting. She pulled him free of his underwear, stroking him almost curiously, feeling the shape, the throb, the hardening of him that she had imagined for years. She experimented with grip, with pace; she teased her fingers around the crown of him, listening to his breathing and his sounds change. When Elliot couldn't take it any longer, he pulled her hand from himself and rolled to cover her, devouring her mouth. He was starved for her, all of her, as he pulled down her tank top, spilling her breasts into the morning like his very own ocean wave to the shore.

As he dipped his head to take in a nipple, his hand slid lower, parting her thighs. She had soaked her panties already, and he chuckled – both in satisfaction, and in sheepish modesty – pushing a finger against the material. He stroked her through her underwear, his cock jumping. Olivia smirked even as she gasped, sighing at her body's trust of him.

A woman who smirked in bed, at her own arousal. Elliot had never imagined a danger so satiating.

He pushed into her clit again, his skin buzzing with excitement as she dipped her head and ran her tongue against his neck. " _Jesus_ ," he shuddered in her arms, wondering if he would even make it inside of her.

They removed clothes from the equation, coming together in the rippled pond of Liv's bedsheets: hips, breasts, groins, as two ships, adrift for years on this collision course. Impatient, Liv took the first hand of El's she could grab, pushing it low, hardly needing any help at all to slip down over his fingers. His mouth next to her ear: "Liv, you feel . . ."

_Like a miracle,_ he wanted to finish, but lost his nerve. His fingers curled and thrust, his turn to learn her, to assess and investigate.

"I want . . ." she whined desperately, "aw, God, El, I want -"

Harder, faster, she dripped down his fingers as he sped up. He wanted whatever it was she wanted. Everything. All of it. His cock was a bar of hot iron, reaching toward his belly, refusing to be forgotten.

Olivia screamed when she came. Her fingertips pushed almost violently into his shoulders, bearing down as her ass thrust her weight onto his fingers. She came, tightening and pulsing . . . and she honest-to-God _screamed_. Elliot was a proud man in bed, but she was the first to ever scream, and his eyes flew open in concern and in amazement. Everything stilled momentarily. They were panting, El waiting for her eyes to open.

"Hey," he said softly. She looked at him. "I love you."

iii.

Liv's palms slid from his shoulders to his chest, her fingers curling into the sparse chest hair there. Elliot couldn't help but push into her touch – his body responded to her in a way he'd never before had to learn to control. She looked up at him through her lashes.

"You saved me," she said, her voice almost shy in the quiet bedroom.

"Haven't I always?" he grinned, pleased when she rolled her eyes.

"And now you're . . . getting a divorce."

"That isn't your fault, Liv." He opened his mouth to elaborate, but she pushed a finger against his lips.

"Noah should have a father," she said. "I'm not sure if - " Another deep breath, and a sigh. "What if you decide you don't want . . ."

His hand went around her wrist, gently pulling. "Liv, I'm not goin' anywhere. I spent 12 years fucking up and wasting time. You got me. So does Noah. There's no need to wonder any more." El caught her lips in a kiss, and rolled them, so he was laying back where they began.

Olivia didn't waste any time then, sliding down to his waist, gripping him in her hand again. She took distinct pleasure in watching him, looking at her as she took him into her mouth. He was salt, ocean, handgun metal. He bucked up into her mouth, moaning through gritted teeth, a love poem of profanity and encouragement.

After long moments of her tongue teasing the length of him, the dripping slit of the head of him, she granted him mercy. Liv straddled his hips, one hand visibly spreading herself open as her long fingers teased her clit. Her chest was thrust proudly toward him, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Jesus, Liv . . . you're so goddam gorgeous," Elliot told her, reaching between her legs to grasp his cock, holding steady so she could sink onto him.

When the silk of her entrance met the pulsing crown of his cock, they both took a sharp, deep breath. All of their stakeout daydreams and precinct shower room orgasms – combined – fell short of the tempest that was born in their coupling. Greedily, he watched her sink all the way onto his shaft, throwing his head back on a deep growl when she hit his pelvis.

He couldn't resign himself to letting her do all the work, grasping her hips each time she met his body. Elliot was white-knuckled, fingers splayed against her upper thighs, jerking her forward with every slam of her ass to bury himself every extra inch he could. Liv's hand was still jammed between her legs, manipulating her hard little clit and gasping.

"El," she bit out, "God, you feel . . . amazing." She sighed, trembling, rocking on him. "Elliot, I want you to - " she bit her lip, shy suddenly at her request, "I want you to come inside me, El. Please."

El nodded. " _Yeahhhh_ . . ." he let out on a sigh, then growled softly as he pulled her forward onto him. He loved giving her what she wanted.

She smiled, murmuring as she felt him filling her, and the simple, raw vulgarity of her want sent her spinning into her own orgasm. Elliot couldn't look away – a goddess, arched above him, flushed all the way to her breasts as her sex clenched him with an instinctual possession he would never contradict.

At last she crumpled forward, pulling up a sheet as she nestled into the crook of his arm. "I love you too, Elliot," Liv said warmly, her eyelids heavy.

El placed a kiss on the top of her head, enjoying the low buzz in all of his muscles. The sunlight outside the bedroom window was growing warm as the afternoon loomed. He wondered if he had ever been as content . . . wondered why he had waited so long.

"Olivia . . . marry me," El whispered.

No answer came, of course - she was asleep. Again. He chuckled, unworried. He knew now there would be other mornings, other chances, to ask again.


	9. Postlude

**Rating: K+, this chapter**

**Spoilers: None, really**

**Talisman: Postlude**

_Fresh cut grass, one cold beer_

_Thank the Lord I am here and now, here and now_

_Summer dress, favorite park_

_Bless your soul, we are here and now, here and now_

_I'm wide awake, so what's the point of dreaming when your life is great?_

_Celebrate the feeling, celebrate the feeling_

_Can't complain about much these days, I believe we'll be okay …_ \- Be Okay, Oh Honey

With the level of commotion in the house, El thought it a miracle that he heard the knock at the door at all. "Don't worry - I'll get it," he said with an amused roll of his eyes.

"You two thought you were _so_ smart."

"Cap'n," Elliot flashed a smile at his former squad captain, motioning him inside. "You made it! Been a while." He shook the older man's hand.

Donald Cragen couldn't stop a smile in return. "You two always thought you had the whole squad fooled, didn't you?" he teased.

"Not you, Sir," El told him, "never you."

Two years had passed, since Olivia had been shot in the basement in the dark. Elliot's divorce finalized, and once his house with Kathy had sold, he convinced Liv to move to the suburbs. They had bought a cozy three bedroom, where Noah had his own room, and Liv had a home office – where she worked, more often than at the precinct, nowadays.

One Summer evening, after they'd introduced Noah to the pleasures of catching and releasing fireflies, Elliot had repeated his question. And Olivia had agreed to be his wife, on paper and in name.

Which is how he found himself in his boisterous household, on his second wedding day. With Captain Cragen, whom he hadn't seen in person in over a year. "We're glad you're here, Cap'n," El said. "We got some club soda on ice for ya in the kitchen, if you want."

"You can call me Don, you know," the older man said, following along behind Elliot to the kitchen.

"Yeah that's . . . not gonna happen," El chuckled, shrugging in apology.

"Where's Liv?"

"In the bedroom, getting ready with Rollins, Melinda and the girls," El replied. "But Fin is around, and Munch is out back, with Noah, teaching him all about how marriage is a conspiratorial institution, I'm sure."

Cragen shook his head. "You let Munch around children? Sounds like my mission is in the back yard. S'cuse me, Stabler."

El watched him go, out through the back entrance to the deck and yard, grinning. For some time now, nostalgia had been a welcome visitor, but it still felt so surprising when it came.

**ii.**

Olivia had insisted on a small, mostly informal wedding – which was fine by Elliot, who had little to no interest in another long-winded Catholic ceremony. They had settled on an intimate affair, in their back yard, with just squad friends and family; it seemed the most appropriate, for El's second marriage, and one that would carry the two fifty-odd-year olds into their golden years.

All of El's kids had come, and he was proud and delighted to have them all under one roof. Kathy had opted not to come, but things between them were friendly, and she had sent along her well-wishes. Liv's squad was in attendance, and Nick Amaro had come up from Florida. It felt organic, natural.

Elliot opened a cold beer and headed for the back door, stopping briefly to double-check his appearance in the hall mirror. It had been too many years out of formal wear, and the shirt scratched at his skin, making him extra restless. He was reaching for the handle to the deck door when he heard Kathleen's voice:

"Dad – wait a sec!" He turned to his daughter, who met him across the floor, reaching for his tie. "You never could keep your ties straightened for very long," she muttered, fixing it to her satisfaction. When she was done, she leaned back to find him grinning at her. "What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You look beautiful."

"Pfft. Dad," she waved him off, her nose wrinkling like she was still 13 and he had cooties. "Whatever." Still, she smiled in spit of herself. "Liv's just about ready – is Captain Cragen here?"

"Yeah," Elliot motioned toward the back door with his beer, "in the yard."

"'Kay, can you send him up? Thanks Dad." She kissed his cheek quickly and went back toward the bedroom, in which - Elliot was sure – wedding day mysteries and miracles were both conceived and born.

The Summer afternoon was exhaling softly toward evening as he stepped out onto their back deck. Around their fence that lined the backyard hung strings of fake sunflowers, that Elizabeth had helped put together. Makeshift rows of lawn chairs were set up, facing a lattice-arch, which was the only thing they had disagreed on spending money over. El saw Noah, rough-housing with Eli, and Munch who was now deep in conversation with Fin. Cragen was near the table they had set up for the food, sipping his club soda and making polite conversation with Carisi.

"Your mother's going to kill you if you mess up that suit," he said to the boys, passing them on the way to the Captain. "Cap – Liv's askin' for ya."

"Guess I'm up!" Cragen said, his nerves showing a bit. Carisi clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly, smiling.

"How about you?" Carisi asked El as they watched Cragen go back to the house. "Ya nervous?"

Elliot chuckled, swigged his beer. "Is it obvious?"

"Nah, Nah," Carisi shook his head. "I was just . . . you know - "

"Relax, Carisi. It's fine. We'll talk about nervous after you ask Rollins to dance."

**iii**.

Liv heard the bedroom door creak open, and the women gathered around her spooked and fluttered like seagulls. "We'll be just outside," Amanda told her, and ushered everyone into the hall, leaving just Donald Cragen standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"Hey, Captain," she smiled. It had already been along day, and she fought off a yawn, despite her adrenaline.

"Olivia," he smiled.

"I'm so glad you could come. "

"Well, you know, it's not every day that I get the honor."

Liv blushed. "Thank you, for agreeing to walk me down the aisle."

Her mentor and former boss stood up a little straighter, smoothed his hands over his suit jacket. "I'm dressed the part, so . . ." he winked, then sobered. "It's my pleasure, Liv."

Olivia stood up from her spot on the foot of the bed, setting her glass of champagne on the nightstand. "So?" she spread her arms, "How do I look?"

Donald Cragen swallowed hard, hoping that she couldn't see the glisten of tears in his aged eyes. "Olivia, you look . . . wonderful." She swished across the floor to him, the cloud of silk and lace that she was, and folded the man into a hug. "Are you ready?" he asked her softly. "Any last confessions?"

She sniffed, chuffed a short laugh. "Confessions are Elliot's area, not mine."

"Can't ask El to confess – the wedding'll never g.et started!" the Captain told her.

**iv**.

Olivia found the early evening unusually quiet as she stepped near to the back door. If she concentrated, she was sure she would even hear the ice, settling in the kitchen as it melted around bottles and cans. She'd specifically requested that 'Here Comes the Bride' not be played, and so, as the Officiant was welcoming everyone, Liv was acutely aware of every noise: Bodies shifting in lawn chairs, Elizabeth whispering to her kids to settle, the strings of sunflowers rattling against the fence.

Then Amanda, Melinda, Kathleen, and Alex Cabot were headed across the deck. Soon it would be Liv's turn. Cragen, beside her, offered his arm, smiling warmly. "May I?" he asked. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, and Olivia's heart swelled.

They stepped out onto the deck.

**v.**

Elliot turned at last, as Barba tapped him on the shoulder. His blue eyes grew wide, then swam with tears against his every control. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but whatever it had been, it was far beyond just an underestimation.

She caught the light in all the right ways, appearing to glow as she approached him, and it was precisely then that he realized how nervous he truly was. Not about the ceremony, but about . . .

**vi**.

. . . the possibility that they would mess it all up, Olivia was thinking as she was watching Elliot's handsome face and the nerves visible in the flex of his jaw. Then, there she was. Cragen was taking her arm, placing her hand in Elliot's. She saw Noah, squirming and grinning in his suit, looking up at El the way he had everyday since they met in that coffee shop nearly two and a half years ago.

As El's fingers closed around hers, her inner cacophony stilled. Her nerves, her over-stimulated senses, the pound of her heart. Their eyes met, and the gaze held. Curiously, she realized it felt just like . . .

**vii**.

. . _. the day they met_ , Elliot mused.

 _"Detective Stabler,"_ the ghost of Cragen's voice spoke, _"I'd like to introduce you to your new partner. This is Olivia Benson."_

She had smiled at him, all shiny newness, untouched by the horrors of SVU. He had reached out a hand, to shake hers. _Partners, for better or worse,_ he'd told her not too long after. Elliot came out of his reverie, from the image of their first handshake to their hands entwined in front of everyone they loved.

"For better or worse," he whispered, and they smiled at each other.

**viii**.

Funny, how many things had changed over their years, Liv was thinking, as they took a deep breath and faced forward. _And how so many things . . . stayed the same._

"Friends," the Officiant began, "family. I am pleased to say, we are all gathered here today . . ."

**END**

* * *

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